The Final Mission
by lionesseyes13
Summary: See Episode One through the eyes of Jedi Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Unless you have the IQ of a speck of dust, you'll realize that I don't own anything or anyone in the Star Wars Universe. Everything is the property of Mr. George Lucas, ultimately, although I did borrow some ideas from _Darth Maul: Shadow Hunter _by Michael Reaves, and the _Jedi Apprentice_ book series by Jude Watson, as well as the book version of the _Phantom Menace_ by Terry Brooks.

Reviews: Since this is my first Star Wars fanfic, I'd love to hear from you. Constructive criticism is always welcome, but flames are not, because I treat you with respect, so you ought to act similarly toward me. I'm not sure if I'll continue if nobody likes it, because I just started school, and I am busy writing another fanfic, so if you're interested in where this is going, please review, so that I won't drop this.

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Attachments

I sighed, and stared out the transparisteel window of the Republic Cruiser that was transporting my Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, and I to the watery world of Naboo in the fringes of the Republic. There wasn't much to look at, frankly, since the cruiser had jumped to hyperspace an hour ago, which meant that even the stars appeared to whizz by us, though, in reality, we were really shooting by them, like a blur against an endless background of obsidian.

To be completely honest, as much as a Jedi, even a Padawan, can be regarded as hating anything, I loathe flying. Flying on the surface of a planet is awful enough, but I absolutely despise interstellar hyperspace travel. The entire notion of the jump to hyperspace, which is always an atom-juggling, light-smearing, and molecule-twisting experience that causes all my midichlorians to scream in protest, made me extremely queasy.

Let me be plain. When I say queasy, I don't mean just to imply nauseous, as in sick to my stomach, which I'm considering having surgically removed by a medic, because Jedi rarely receive anything truly scrumptious to consume anyhow, but also spiritually uncomfortable.

Still, I've accepted the fact that it is necessary for a Jedi such as myself to utilize hyperspace travel as a means of going from Point A to Point B, and from Point B to Point C. After all, it would literally take lifetimes, even with the longevity the Force can grant a polished Jedi, to travel to any world outside the Coruscant system by sublight, and the beings a Jedi is intended to serve really can't wait that long, I suppose, even if patience is a virtue.

However, the unease that hyperspace journeying always inspired was not the epicenter of my discomfiture currently. Actually, I was reflecting upon my previous assignment on Coruscant, striving to find closure in a matter that only created more haunting inquiries in me the more I contemplated it.

It should have been a relatively simple and routine mission, which was why the Jedi Council and Master Qui-Gon had sent me on it alone, as preparation for my trails, which both Qui-Gon and I recognized that I would be ready to face soon. Yet, it turned out to be rather complicated.

A little more than two days ago now, Qui-Gon had sought me out during my typical morning meditation in the soothing Room of a Thousand Fountains, slipped down on a rock beside me, and explained to me that Darsha Assant, a female Padawan my age, had gone missing in the course of her trail of ferrying a Black Sun gang member witness from a safehouse in the Crimson Corridor, a region in the underbelly of Coruscant's equatorial area where the sun really never shines, and an invading herd of banthas would be constituted as gentrifying the neighborhood, to the Jedi Temple, so that he could testify against a bunch of his fellows in the court of law. In theory, this was a routine mission, but she had obviously blundered somehow if she had disappeared, and her Master, Anoon Bondara, had apparently gone after her, and had vanished, as well.

When Master Qui-Gon provided me with this update, I immediately volunteered to embark on a search for them, not only because it was my duty as a fellow Jedi to rescue them if possible, but also because I had immense respect for the skills of Master Bondara, who is a brilliant warrior, and I was fairly close to Padawan Assant. Although we were not best friends like Bant Eerin, Garen Muln, Reeft, and even Siri Tachi, and I are, she had been in many of my classes, and I had always been impressed with her quick wit, and her mind, which was sharper than a vibroblade. We had talked to each other regularly at the Temple between missions, and we had sparred twice with her winning the first match, and me emerging the victor from our second duel. I had looked forward to cooperating with her on future missions, but that, obviously hadn't been the will of the Force, for I had discovered that both Darsha Assant and Master Anoon Bondara had perished in the course of their mission, and the Black Sun informant had died as well, meaning that they had not been able to fulfill their final mission, either, which was even worse, especially because I couldn't shake off the conviction that I was missing something important…

"You're brooding again." Qui-Gon's mildly amused and gently chastising voice dragged me out of my musings.

"Sorry, Master," I mumbled, shaking my head, as I returned to the present moment, which, as Qui-Gon would assert, is the crucial moment. "I was just thinking about my last assignment― I can't banish the feeling that I'm missing something terribly important, that I'm groping blindly in the dark, but some hidden truth is only inches away from my fingers, yet I can't see it, and so I miss it due to the lack of illumination."

"Deaths often have a disorienting effect upon us," noted my Master. "Therefore, it is nothing to fret about."

Their deaths are so distressing, because I sense that they conceal something critical, but I have no notion as to what, and so, to me, their deaths are still essentially pointless, since they never succeeded in their primary objective. However, I didn't establish any of this aloud, partly because I was aware it sounded disrespectful to the deceased, and partly because I have never been awesome at expressing myself verbally, especially when I'm aiming to express my feelings. I have feelings as complex as just about anybody else, but I have difficulty sharing them with others, even my mentor, whom I trust absolutely.

Perhaps, my thoughts broadcasted themselves partially via our Force-bond, though, for he educated me, "No death is meaningless, as those who pass away merely become one with the Force." Here, he paused to extend his heavy, callused hands for my inspection. "Look at my hands, Obi-Wan. Everybody thirsts for the hope of something after death, which is why just about every culture I've ever encountered has a religion of some type, and, indeed, there is an afterlife, for one becomes one with the Force by dissolving like cream mixed into steaming stimcaf. These hands have been knit into shape by the universe, will hold it for a few score years, and then lose it again, surrendering to the power of the Force that ties us all together." He nodded at the space flickering by outside the transparisteel. "Even those stars we're flashing by that glitter so vibrantly now will eventually burn out. Such is the way of the Force."

"And, in the end, entropy will triumph completely," I murmured, reciting by rote the arguments of many a scientist. "Black holes will swallow all heat and light― all enthalpy― and, ultimately, devour themselves, as well, and, then, the universe will become infinitely cold and devoid of life and light. I can't help but wonder if enthalpy is the Light Side, and entropy the Dark, Master."

"Either way, your duty is still the same, Padawan. You must serve the Force as best you can, and that is all you need concern yourself with." After scrutinizing me closely with his keen light blue eyes, he asked, "Are you prepared to contact the Jedi Council, and fill them and me in on what exactly occurred on your last assignment?"

"Yes, Master." Although I did not wish to discuss this topic, I was as ready to do so now as I would ever be, so I bobbed my head in assent, and switched on the holocam, and entered in the code for the Temple.

Half an hour later, I had detailed how, after receiving my mission, I had descended by speeder bike to the coordinates the Council had provided of the safehouse, where the Black Sun informant had temporarily resided, and how I had found the remains of Darsha's speeder there. Speaking with a local, I had learned that the man Darsha had been responsible for transporting had been killed, so, suspecting that Black Sun had eliminated one who would betray them, I headed over to the gang's headquarters.

There, I explained, I discovered that the vigo, or crime overlord, had been murdered, possibly indicating that another coup was occurring within the illegal organization, and nobody had witnessed the vigo's assassination, or had seen Darsha or Master Bondara. Since I still operated under the assumption that Darhsa and Master Bondara were alive, I interviewed locals, I told the Council and Qui-Gon, and heard how beings that matched the descriptions of the two missing Jedi had been chased by a mysterious cowled figure in a swoop of the type that I later discovered had been stolen from the law enforcement, how Master Bondara had battled the cloaked individual and had been killed in the endeavor, and how the vehicle the Jedi were in had crashed.

When I examined the location of the crash, however, I felt nothing to indicate that Darsha had died with Master Bondara, and so I continued to search for her. During my looks about the city, I spotted a crime scene being investigated not far from where the pair of Jedi had last been seen. The building being investigated was an old, abandoned factory, where they had been some sort of explosion. In the debris, I uncovered the remains of Darsha's lightsaber, which I had recognized only due to its distinctive handle, but I had unearthed nothing to indicate that she lived on, and I felt in the Force the void of her absence.

At this juncture, a lump formed in my throat as I told this tale. Speaking of Darsha's death made it undeniably real, and that sliced me, since I found it challenging to accept that so much promise could be murdered in a brief time span. Darsha would have made a fine Jedi, and it was unfair that she had been stolen from the galaxy before she could contribute more to it.

Still, I managed to maintain composure as Yoda, Mace Windu, and the rest of the Council asked me questions that elicited more specific data from me. It was only when they terminated the transmission that I exhaled deeply, and leaned further back in my chair.

"Not every mission ends badly," observed Qui-Gon, attempting to pull me away from mourning for Darsha, since attachment isn't the way of the Jedi. A Jedi ought to rejoice for those who have entered the Force, instead of grieving for them. Grief was indicative of possession, and demonstrated that one was foolishly setting one's own selfish desires against the greater good of the all-pervading and omnipotent Force, which was a dangerous, self-destructive path that no Jedi should ever traverse. "Remember our first official mission together? Surely, you can't have forgotten Paaxi and Guerra?"

"I haven't forgotten them, Master." I couldn't contain a grin at the thought of the two vexing criminal brothers who had shipwrecked us in order to trap us on their homeworld of Phindar, so that we could rescue their plant from the clutches of the crime dictatorship that restricted access to food and medicinal supplies for civilians. "I'm glad that they're both the patriarchs of large families now."

"I couldn't have forgotten them, anyway, even if my memory had been successfully wiped by the Syndicrat," I amended, recalling how the crime organization had believed it had wiped my memory, even though, through employment of the Force, I was able to prevent such a disastrous outcome, which explained how I had survived my stint on the neighboring planet Gala, which was torn by strife between its three tribes, where I had been released after my supposed memory wipe. "Besides, that wasn't our first official mission together, Master, since the Council did not actually authorize it."

"By that standard, half of our missions together don't count," chuckled Qui-Gon.

"Yes, we can cross anything pertaining to Didi off our list of official missions." I referred to our troublemaking buddy, who was the proprietor of a café on Coruscant, and who had a tendency to seek our assistance whenever he discovered himself in over his head with the lowlifes he persisted on associating with. When Qui-Gon first introduced me to him, I instantly wrote him off as yet another vagrant that my Master, due to the excesses of his Living Force connection, believed it was worthwhile to deal with, despite what everyone else perceived, but, over time, I had come to appreciate Didi Oddo for his cheeriness, and connections to the city and criminal grapevines of Coruscant.

Qui-Gon smiled at me, and began a remembrance of one of Didi's numerous exploits. Before either of us were aware of it, we were exchanging memories of a thousand experiences on a hundred missions we had gone on as a team. We had never chattered this much on a trip to a planet before, because neither of us are into lengthy conversation, and so our bond is more centered around quiet companionship and silent communication, however, Qui-Gon was in a rare talkative mood, and that made me want to chat, as well.

I surmise that both knew that my time as an apprentice was drawing to a conclusion, even if neither of us acknowledged as much aloud, because we simply didn't need to as we were that attuned to each other, and neither of us wished to forget the special moments we had shared. Reliving these adventures made me somewhat reluctant to face the trails, especially after what had happened to Darsha during hers.

Sure, I believed that that I was capable of passing the trials, and would be a competent Jedi, even if there was still much I could learn from my instructor, but I was not eager to leave the protection and guidance afforded by my relationship with Qui-Gon, because I felt an overpowering sense of friendship and loyalty, and I was loath to be separated from him. Yet, that wasn't the Jedi way. I would have to overcome my attachment, or it would be my undoing.

I had just determined as much when the pilot flipped off the lights, hinting that we should rest, and I knew, intellectually, that we ought to go to the sleep area, and snooze, or at least meditate, on the sleep coaches there, for we might not have another opportunity to do so for standard days, but, alas, there was an emotional overrule that occurred in my muscles that rendered it impossible for me to move.

Possibly, Qui-Gon harbored similar sentiments, for he remained stationary, as well, so the two of us just sat quietly in our chairs, comfortable and content in each other's presence, and feeling no compulsion to speak now that all our memories had been swapped.

In the silent darkness, the question that had hovered in the back of my mind for months, as I approached the trials, arose to the forefront of my brain, and this time, before I could halt them, the words tumbled out, "Master, can you tell me something I'm lacking― something that I cannot see that I need to work on?"

"Do you mean a flaw, Padawan?" Even though I could not discern his face clearly in the dark that enveloped us like a veil, I was able to envision his arching his eyebrows at me, since I was more familiar with his facial expressions than I was with my own, as Jedi don't condone gazing into mirrors all that often. A Jedi should concern himself or herself with more pressing matters than his or her physical appearance, and I daresay that vanity is not likely to be my downfall.

"Yes," I agreed, deciding that the succinct definition he had proposed was perfectly functional, illustrating once again that I'm no wordsmith. Not wanting him to list weaknesses I already was aware of since I wished to learn of shortcomings that I did not recognize in myself, and, therefore, could not defend myself against, I elaborated, "You have told me that I worry too much, and I've tried to work on that."

"Ah, you mean that you've worried about worrying too much?" The lightly teasing quality in my Master's tone stated all too plainly that this was an amusing scenario that only I could perform.

"I can be impatient with living beings, too," I went on, still in a serious tone, because we were, after all, discussing my faults, which is a grave affair, although I could feel my lips quirking upward at his words, since when he phrased it in such a simplistic fashion, I realized that what I'd been doing amounted to just that, which was ironic. "I know that, and sometimes I'm a little too confident of my abilities, perhaps."

"These things are true, Obi-Wan," conceded Qui-Gon in a somber voice, because, apparently, my persistent seriousness had finally impacted him, "but they are not flaws. I have seen how hard you have worked, and I've witnessed what you can accomplish."

"Then what is my flaw?" I frowned, thinking that his assessment resembled praise more than a critical analysis.

At this point, Qui-Gon hesitated for such a considerable amount of time that I imagined that he had fallen asleep, despite my anxiousness to hear my worst shortcoming. Still, I didn't pursue the issue, as I had learned over the years of my apprenticeship to the man that he would reveal everything in his own time, and no measure of insistence would wrangle a word out of him if he didn't want to say it. Finally, he commented softly, "You will be a great Jedi Knight, Obi-Wan Kenobi. I know that with every beat of my heart, with every breath I take. You will make me proud that I was present at your beginnings." Again, he paused to gather his thoughts as though they were leaves that had been scattered in a windstorm, while I basked in the glow of his praise, and then he resumed, "If you do have a flaw, perhaps it is simply this: you wish to please me too much."

When he announced as much, I was glad that the lights were switched off, because I gawked at him, as if I had never laid eyes upon him before, although he was probably able to read my astonishment through our Force bound, anyway. I had never considered my desire for my Master to approve of my behavior as a fault of mine. After all, what sort of pupil would I be if I set out to disappoint my mentor?

Still, I could recall plenty of times when we had argued, because he insisted on defying the Council's edicts thanks to his championing of the Living Force, whereas I had wished to observe the dictates of the Council, being more grounded in the Unifying Force, and I doubted that I would have been able to contradict him if I had been obsessed with earning his approval, but, doubtlessly, Qui-Gon comprehended what he was talking about loads better than I did, for his prodigious Living Force abilities permitted him insight into human emotions that I could not hope to possess, even if I was dealing with myself. In this instance, I would defer to my Master, therefore, as I usually did. After all, wasn't his analysis of my greatest fault in harmony with my own revelation that I was too attached to him?

Yes, it was, which meant that I must cure myself of my need to gain my Master's approval, and my desire to always remain by his side. I must learn to be comfortable without him, since that is the will of the Force, and the way of the Jedi, and I must comply, meaning that I may as well do so wholeheartedly.


	2. Chapter 2

Reviews: Reviews are always more than welcome. I respond as promptly and as politely as I can to all signed reviews.

Author's Note: There is more action in this chapter, as it really starts the mission, in case you were wondering. Since I don't have that much homework this weekend, I had time to write this. Thanks are due to user Mary Gooby for encouraging me to post this. She's so awesome. I love all the people I can get to know because of the Internet.

Foreboding Feelings

I was leafing through the holofiles Archivist Jocasta Nu had provided us with prior to our departure from Coruscant, reviewing all the data I could upon the history of the dispute over taxing trade routes, on the economy and society of Naboo, and the policies of the Trade Federation, for what must have been the tenth time, at least, when the Republic Cruiser dropped out of hyperspace, something that always causes me immense relief. Oddly enough, I don't mind exiting hyperspace, because my body and brain realize that I'm leaving the abnormal state of traveling at the speed of light, and am returning to the standard sublight speeds. It's when I'm entering the void of hyperspace that my whole body protests quite vocally.

However, my relief at exiting hyperspace was transformed to disquiet in record time when I spotted the Trade Federation battleships that engulfed the small, watery world of Naboo. Sure, I had known, intellectually, that they would be there, but actually affixing my eyes on them was still a shock.

Uncannily reminiscent of plump, white maggots, they spread through space like a lethal virus, preventing all access to the planet, just like any self-respecting navy would do when instigating a blockade. Pursuing my heartening metaphor of maggots, I noted that for maggots to be so healthy-looking, they would need to be feasting on a corpse, in this case, Naboo.

Shaking my head to clear it of this rather revolting image, I pushed myself out of the chair, and headed into the cockpit, where Qui-Gon was conversing with the captain and her co-pilot. After my years of studying under the man, I knew as surely as I knew my own name that Qui-Gon would be eager to start the mission as soon as possible, so that this issue could be resolved before the people of Naboo could be further harmed or endangered, and we would need to disembark the ship through the ramp in the cockpit.

When I arrived in the cockpit, I saw that the captain was just concluding a communication with the viceroy of the Trade Federation. Since her words had not been audible to me, I figured that the captain had been requesting that we board at once, as Qui-Gon would doubtlessly have asked her to do. However, I couldn't be positive that the viceroy had agreed. After all, he wasn't Force-sensitive, so he wouldn't realize that we were Jedi, unless Qui-Gon told him, and he might have the audacity to deny entrance to the ambassadors from the Supreme Chancellor. With this in mind, I murmured to my Master, "Are we to board?"

"Yes, the viceroy will meet with us," Qui-Gon responded, bobbing his head slightly in affirmation. Then, he glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, taking my measure, as he had before every mission we had gone on together, ever since I became his Padawan at thirteen. Once upon a time, that accessing gaze had made me anxious, but it didn't anymore. Now, I understood that it took in the strengths as well as the vulnerabilities, and wasn't necessarily intended to be critical.

"Why Naboo, do you think, my young apprentice?" he continued, returning his gaze to the viewport as our captain landed us in the docking bay of the flagship of the Trade Federation fleet. I couldn't discern whether he was musing aloud, or prompting me to think about the ramifications of the situation, or if his aims were a combination of both, so I remained safely silent upon the subject, permitting him to press on, "Why blockade this particular planet, when there are so many others to choose from, most larger, and more likely to feel the debilitating effects of such an action?"

Throughout my reading, I had puzzled over this conundrum myself. In the end, I decided that, since the Neimoidians who managed the Trade Federation were cowards, they would not have selected any world that could muster a formidable force to combat them, as it is far easier to assail an enemy that you know will be incapable of resisting your assault. Thus, they were compelled to blockade a planet that was renowned for its pacific nature, such as Alderaan, or Naboo. However, blockading a planet such as Alderaan would have been an imprudent move, because Alderaan was a Core world with an influential voice in the Senate. On the other hand, Naboo would be an apt choice, because it had only recently elected a new queen, Queen Amidala, and she was only fourteen, and, although she was impeccably well-educated, she was inexperienced, and, in politics as in much else, experience mattered a good deal. Also, from my en route studies, I had learned that Naboo, being so removed from the Core, did rely upon the Trade Federation for many foodstuffs and technologies, so a blockade here would be devastating to the planet's inhabitants...and nobody would noticed if a small world complained, but if a medium or large one did, then something might be done to curtail the blockade, which was hardly advantageous to the Trade Federation.

Before I could organize these tidbits of logic into coherent words, though, Qui-Gon announced that it was time to go, and I followed him down the ramp, and into the docking bay, where a protocol droid was awaiting us. I was briefly surprised that a droid, not a living organism, had been assigned to greet us, but then I figured out that, since Neimoidians were perhaps the most craven of all the myriad species that inhabited this universe, they were probably still quivering in their control bridge, striving to summon the valor necessary to meet with the delegation from the Supreme Chancellor face to face.

As the droid introduced itself as TC-14, and promised us that we were most welcome here, Qui-Gon and I both drew up our hoods to conceal our features, so that anybody who might be watching via holocam would not be able to surmise that we were Jedi, because the Supreme Chancellor had requested that the Jedi sent be as circumspect as possible, since he was afraid that he was overstepping his bounds when he dispatched us here without official Senate approval. That was another reason why we must be successful in this mission, because if we failed, Senators would be more likely to condemn the Chancellor's decision, and turmoil would result, which was never a boon to society.

Once the droid had introduced itself, it escorted us down a labyrinth of corridors until we reached an empty conference room, which it bowed us into, with a tinny, "I hope your honored sirs will be comfortable here. My master will be with you shortly."

Without waiting for a reply, the droid pivoted, and shuffled out of the chamber, shutting the door almost soundlessly in its wake. My eyes trailed it as it departed, and, then, riveted upon the maze of Trade Federation battleships that sullied the otherwise gorgeous view of Naboo, which was a lush, aquamarine sphere that hung resplendent in the black sky.

As I gazed out at the warships, a wave of foreboding swept over me, nearly knocking me over where I stood. My forehead knit, as I analyzed the emotions surging through me. After a few seconds of contemplation, I determined that the anxiety I felt wasn't rooted in the menacing display of military might before me. No, I had seen enough of warfare not to be intimidated by such things, but I couldn't shake off the overpowering sensation that there was some clandestine, sinister purpose behind all this, and that the Trade Federation's apparent objective of blockading Naboo in order to compel Queen Amidala to sign a treaty with them allowing the taxes favored by the Federation to take effect on her planet was merely a ruse, a mask concealing the true inscrutable intentions of someone else, someone who was far away form here, and who was manipulating all of us like a predator would its prey...

"I have a bad feeling about this," I mumbled, confiding in my Master without even being fully conscious of the fact that I was speaking, because approximately ninety-eight percent of my cognitive abilities were devoted to tracking down the distant source of my discomfiture.

"I don't sense anything." Even though my mind was preoccupied elsewhere, I didn't miss the tinge of amusement shading his tone, because I have expressed similar sentiments before many a mission, some of which have ended up being quite dull (yes, Jedi can have boring missions), which is part of the reason why he accuses me of being a pessimist, although I would classify myself as a realist. Force knows, it isn't my fault that reality is oftentimes grim, like it was in this instance.

I had to find the being that emitted the evil I sensed streaming from the Federation ships, though. That was of paramount importance. Yet, from the feeling that I had, the one I was searching for was probably light-years away...

"It's not about here, Master," I explained absently. "It's not about the mission. It's something...elsewhere...elusive..."

I trailed off, as I narrowed my eyes, focusing on the disturbance I felt in the Unifying Force, seeking the mastermind orchestrating all this. Unfortunately, my concentration was shattered when Qui-Gon placed his broad hand on my shoulder.

"Don't center on your anxiety, Obi-Wan," he reminded me. "Keep your concentration on the here and now, where it belongs."

"Master Yoda says I should be mindful of the future," I pointed out, hinting that just because he did not set much in store by the Unifying Force, other Jedi Masters did, as I broke my focus, ceding the fact that the galaxy was too massive a location with too extensive a population for me to hope to track this architect of a shadowy plot that I perceived only a vague outline of, solely on the clue that they were a living organism. I didn't even have a specific species or gender.

"But not at the expense of the moment," he countered, his tone gentle, but firm. "Be mindful of the Living Force, my young Padawan."

Well, that was hardly my greatest talent, as he comprehended well after all his years of working with me, as I'm the type who is prone to, metaphorically speaking, of course, ram into a permacrete wall owing to the fact that I am busy reflecting upon a sense of imminent danger, and am not focused on where I am going. Still, there are perils to operating only in the present. After all, if you don't examine how your actions will impact the future, your could easily ruin everything without even being aware that you were doing so.

However, in this case, he was probably right. The Living Force would most likely be of more assistance than my sense of a malevolent mastermind somewhere manipulating us all, a revelation that was theoretically intriguing, but had few practical implications at the present.

"Yes, Master," I replied finally. Then, reverting my thoughts to the moment as much as I ever could, I inquired, "How do you think that this trade viceroy will deal with the Chancellor's demands?"

"These Federation types are cowards." Qui-Gon dismissed the prospect of our encountering any complications on this simple diplomatic assignment that, in his opinion, probably was hardly worthy of Jedi attention, when a diplomat could accomplish as much. "The negotiations will be short."

As he finished making this assertion, he spun away from the view of Naboo, and the blockade, and settled himself at a chair around the oval conference table. Despite his confident words, I found myself questioning whether he was mistaken, because it seemed that the viceroy was taking a terribly long time to arrive, considering that he only needed to walk halfway across his vessel, as I seated myself beside my Master.

Perhaps, I was the wrong one, though. After all, every species had its own unique customs, and, in some cultures, "shortly" meant in a few seconds or minutes, in others it translated into a handful of hours, and, in others, a week or more. Oh, how I wished that the Neimoidians did not subscribe to the final ideology, but, surely, they couldn't, since such a lackadaisical definition of "shortly" would be more characteristic of a laid-back species, not one with a justified reputation for ruthless, cut-throat business policies.

"Is it in their nature to make us wait this long?" I demanded of Qui-Gon, trying to discover how much more time we would have to sit here for, before the viceroy finally deigned to join us. As I made this inquiry, TC-14, the protocol droid returned to the room, and offered us each a glass of some exotic fruit juice.

Suspecting poison, I accepted the beverage with a nod of thanks, but refused to sip it, social faux pass or no. However, my Master just directed a subtle nod at me, informing me that there was no poison in the glasses, and instructing me to drink. Obediently, I raised my cup to my lips, as he did the same.

"No. I sense an unusual amount of fear for something as trivial as this trade dispute." A slight frown creased his forehead as he admitted this, and unease coiled inside me again. If it wasn't customary for them to have us wait this long for the viceroy to meet with us, then something was amiss, and that was never an auspicious omen on a mission, but just what were the Neimoidians planning?

Apparently, this problem was plaguing my Master, as well, because he lapsed into silence, also, wearing a pensive expression. Neither of us were left in suspense too long, though, for less than a minute later, an explosion rocked the ship, and I felt a recession in the Force. To me, it seemed, that a plug had abruptly been yanked out of a tub of liquid, leaving behind a dreadful absence, and I was aware that it was the deaths of the captain and the crew of the Republic Cruiser that I sensed. Obviously, the unscrupulous Neimoidians had fired upon our ship, but why, I wondered.

In the next instant, the answer to that inquiry lanced through my head like lightning. The Neimoidians had destroyed the transport, because they desired to ensnare us here, where they could murder us, and claim that they had never been aware of any delegation dispatched to the Naboo crisis by the Supreme Chancellor. If they wished to execute us, they would be attacking us any second now, and, since we were dealing with Neimoidians who were much too afraid to fight their own battles, we would most likely be making the acquaintance of a squadron of Federation battle droids within the minute.

Therefore, I leapt to my feet, whipping out my lightsaber, as Qui-Gon did the same. Both of us scanned the room, seeking some indication of a threat, but there was only the protocol droid, dithering over the refreshments we had spilled when we jumped to our feet after sensing a disturbance in the Force.

Since we seemed to be in no immediate jeopardy, Qui-Gon jerked his head, wordlessly directing me to deactivate my wepaon. I complied with his command instantaneously, and the hum of our lightsaber blades was extinguished as he switched off his barely a nanosecond before I did.

Quiet enshrouded the chamber for a fraction of a second, and, then, my Master barked, "Gas!", and I noted with chagrin that a faint hissing noise was, indeed, emanating from the air vents. i should have been able to sense that.

Scolding myself for mussing something so obvious, I sucked in a breath of oxygen, knowing that I would have to hold it, unless I wanted to inhale the toxic gas which was now flooding the room. Needless to say, I had zero desire to do so, because I'm not entirely prepared to surrender my corporeal being wholly to the Force yet, as un-Jedi as that might sound.

As the seconds ticked by in an excruciatingly slow fashion, I struggled not to contemplate how long I was capable of holding my breath—five and a half minutes on the dot. It was a feat that was easier said than done, because I could feel my rib cage squeezing my starved lungs like s deadly snake on a jungle world, and I was starting to feel my mind turn into a sponge owing to lack of air. Still, it was better than perishing in the fatal gas that now clouded the room, obscuring my vision, and so, I kept my nose and mouth clamped closed. Oh, how I wished that I could hold my breath for more than half an hour like my Mon Calamari friend, Bant! If the viceroy did not detail a squad of battle droids to ascertain whether or not Qui-Gon and I had been killed by the gas, soon we would be dead...

Fortunately, the Force was, indeed, with us, and, at that moment, the door to the conference room was lowered, and I ignited my lightsaber, as my Master did the same. Together, we pushed ourselves through the fog of unbreathable air. Within seconds, we met resistance from the squadron of battle droids tasked with ensuring that we were murdered, however, we deflected their shots easily. Two droids were rendered inoperable when the barrage was turned upon them, and a bullet smashed into their control panels.

While Qui-Gon bisected several of our mechanical opponents, I called upon my Force connection, shoved out my left palm, because it was the hand I was currently not employing in the fight, and caused five droids to crash into the alloy wall, shooting sparks and spare parts all over the floor.

Working in tandem, the pair of us progressed toward the control room, wiping out any droids who challenged us along the way. This was us at our apex, when we could anticipate each other's moves flawlessly, completely merging with one another's strengths, and compensating for any of our companion's weaknesses. Truly, the droids stood no chance against us. Living organisms would have surrendered, but such a notion was not programmed into our foes, and so they continued fighting, incapable of considering the possibility of surrender. We were an unstoppable force, working in unison against our adversaries, capable of foreseeing and foiling every attack the droids strove to make.

Soon, we had arrived outside the control bridge, and I chopped down the surviving droids, as Qui-Gon plunged his lightsaber into the durasteel bridge door. Without a word being exchanged between us, I knew that he was depending on me to shield his flank, and block any assaults enemy reinforcements might make while he severed through the door into the control center.

From the room beyond me, I felt a rush of terror, as I stood there, legs akimbo, ready to defend my master against any new foe, and, then, with rumbles like rolls of thunder, a series of blast doors slammed down, sealing the control bridge, and protecting the ravaged durasteel door. I was mildly amused by the notion that anyone would believe that blast doors would bar a Jedi from entering a room, as Qui-Gon stabbed at the blast doors with renewed vigor.

Then, my eyes lighted upon something that was guaranteed to dampen my mood faster than a torrential downpour on Drongar would. A set of destroyer droids were hurtling down the hallway toward us, and when they were several meters from me, they shot up to their normal, deceptively unimpressive height, and opened fire upon me. Instinctively, I deflected the bolts back toward them, but I rued my impulsive actions barely a millisecond later, when I learned that the droids possessed shields that automatically sent the shots volleying back toward me. As I resolutely parried an ever increasing amount of bullets, I concluded that I couldn't defeat this enemy by myself, so I shouted, "Master, destroyers!"

I needn't have wasted my breath, though, for my distress must have announced itself through our bond, because Qui-Gon had already vaulted over to join me, our lightsabers whirling about as we protected ourselves from the fury of the bolts. As we did so, I managed to find the time between deflecting shots to observe dryly, "Offhand, I'd say this mission is past the negotiation stage."

In fact, it was rapidly progressing from the "aggressive negotiation" level into the exalted "all-out war" phase.

"It's a standoff! Let's go," was my Master's only response to my wisecrack, and the tow of us sprinted down the corridor next to each other, retreating from the destroyer droids, and taking shelter in a service niche. We had only just concealed ourselves when the destroyer droids, which had chased after us, marched past us, firing stolidly at the end of the hall, where we were not.

Since most droids were not provided with much critical thinking capacities, it was about a moment before one of the destroyers had the epiphany that all was not proceeding according to plan, after all, and it ordered, "Switch to bio! There they are!"

As the droids modified their aims, and this time commenced shooting in the proper direction, Qui-Gon and I deflected the bolts, and ran away again. This time, we hoisted ourselves up into the ventilation shaft, assuming that we could find a duct that let out over the command bridge from there, and, luckily, the destroyers did not pursue us into the ventilation shaft.

"It's bonus that most droids have no imagination whatsoever," remarked Qui-Gon, as we crawled through the service vent. "After all, a team of humans would have thought to search up here long ago."

"Yes, and it's a real plus that the Trade Federation depends upon droids to do so much for them," I added from behind him.

For a little while longer, we crawled through the vent, until we reached the end of it. Crouching at the edge, I recognized that we were now overlooking a gigantic hangar that was packed with gargantuan H-shaped landing craft, and mammoth Multi-Troop Transports, or MTTs. I watched, appalled, as rank after rank of battle droids stomped up to the transports, and folded themselves neatly into the deployment racks. It transpired that the folded droids made astoundingly portable bundles, which meant that hundreds of them could be stowed on a single MTT. When each MTT was loaded, I saw, it drove onto a landing craft, at the direction, no doubt, of a droid.

If all the landing craft were to be filled with MTTs, which were loaded with hundreds of battle droids apiece, then the Naboo were up to their eyeballs in bantha droppings, and that was putting it mildly.

"It's an invasion army," I stated, establishing aloud the inevitable conclusion that we had both reached after absorbing the awful spectacle unfolding before us.

"It's an odd play for the Trade federation, though," my Master commented, and I realized that he was right, because they must have intended all along to invade Naboo, because these droids could not have been carried across the galaxy like this on a mere whim, and landing craft like these would only have been useful in an assault on a planet's ground, not in a aerial blockade. "We've got to warn the Naboo, and contact Chancellor Valorum."

"But how?" I eyed him inquiringly, because I was aware that if the Trade Federation was plotting an invasion, the first item on its agenda would be to disrupt all communications coming to and from Naboo, since they would not want the rest of the Galactic Republic to hear of their attack on a sovereign planet, and the least complicated manner to accomplish that would be to prevent anyone from Naboo to contact anyone off-planet. That meant that we would be unable to speak with Queen Amidala, or any of her officials in time.

"Those are landing craft." Qui-Gon pointed with his chin at the ships the MTTs were driving onto. "Let's split up. We'll stow away aboard separate ships, and meet down on the planet."

When he explained this scheme to me, I groaned inwardly, because I wasn't exactly ecstatic about the idea of hiding aboard a vessel brimful of droids that would be dedicated to killing me should my presence be detected on board. Yes, now that I was nearing the termination of my time as a Padawan, I was more confident of my abilities, but even Master Yoda's odds of vanquishing that many droids all at once was purely in the imaginary number range.

Yet, I didn't have a more feasible suggestion, and it was folly to debate with Qui-Gon once his mind was made up—that was one thing I had leaned through my apprenticeship with him, even if I had learned nothing else. Besides, we did need to forewarn the Naboo, so they could muster as much semblance of an army as they could to counter the Trade Federation, and Chancellor Valorum had to be apprised of how the Naboo affair had escalated.

I'll just have to be very quiet, more so than I have ever been in my whole life, I thought, but, in case I did die, there was something of the utmost importance that I had to say to Qui-Gon first. "You were right about one thing, Master," I informed him slyly, employing his own words against him. "The negotiations were short." So short, in fact, that they were almost non-existent.

He studied me briefly, his eyes twinkling, and I knew were both thinking the same thing: that there had been a time when I wouldn't have dared to border on impertinence in such a causal manner, but the maverick master had rubbed off on his Padawan, and now even by-the-book me had a defiant streak. No doubt, Yoda, Mace Windu, and the rest of the Jedi Council would be thrilled. Then, he snorted softly, before leaping out of the vent, and landing in the shadows around the fringes of the hangar. When I was certain that he was not about to be caught, I vaulted after him, and touched down lightly on the floor, despite the distance I had traveled through the air.

Together, we crept toward the landing craft, and the waiting battle droids. When we reached the landing crafts, we diverged, and slipped aboard different ships, Qui-Gon selecting the one on the left, and me choosing the one on the right.

As I tucked myself away in a corner of my vessel where I hoped fervently that I wouldn't be stumbled across, I reassured myself that everything would work out fine, as long as it went according to plan, but things seldom adhered to a strategy devised by sentient lifeforms, and the fact that I was aboard such a ship attested to that, so that idea was a frail consolation.


	3. Chapter 3

Reviews: Review, and the Force will be with you.

Pathetic Lifeforms

A misty and perpetual-feeling twilight lay in silvery-gray strata over the jade-green lushness of Naboo, as I descended the ramp out of the MTT, following hundreds of rank-and-file battle droids out of the transports, as millions of droids unloaded beside me in the clumps of trees and grasses that bordered a vast, murky swamp. Since they were single-minded devices, the droids focused only on disembarking the MTTs, and adopting proper military formation after leading the war craft, ignoring me as thoroughly as if I were a speck of dirt, or a bump on a log.

Still, I couldn't rely upon their indifference lasting forever, and, even if I could have, I couldn't just stay here, for I was obligated to warn the Naboo before the Federation battalions besieged their cities. With this in mind, I crept stealthily over to the swamp, and dived as smoothly into it as I possibly could, because I saw no reason to attract the enemy's attention with excessive noise, as they were being considerate enough to ignore my presence entirely, and I did not object to such a circumstance.

However, I questioned the prudence of my decision to leap into the swamp when I discovered that the water was viscous, and, therefore, was challenging to swim or breathe in, even with my breather clenched firmly between my teeth, and had the revolting odor of a decomposing womprat.

As I muddled through the water and mud, mostly mud, actually, I realized that Naboo wasn't a very lovely planet, despite its deceptive appearance of a jewel from space, if it had such disgusting geographical features. Well, this was yet another spectacular episode in the life of Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Padawan extraordinaire, I noted bitterly.

How come I never got assigned to any of the good planets? Bant always was sent to gorgeous worlds like Belazura, Reeft's always ended up having scrumptious native dishes, and Garen didn't have to worry about what planets he was dispatched to, because, as an excellent pilot, he could fly away from them if necessity required, but I was stuck here in the middle of a stupid and smelly swamp, and I was having the time of my miserable life here, to be sure.

Such self-pitying thoughts are unworthy of a Jedi, though. A true Jedi was revealed in moments of adversity such as this. If I were a decent Jedi, I would be glad to swim through this stinky quagmire if there was any chance at all that it would assist the civilians of Naboo, who were citizens of the Republic whose people I had vowed to protect with my life. This thought, and the recognition that since my robes were brown, no blatant stains would be acquired on it from this misadventure, strengthened my resolve, and I propelled myself through the water more rapidly now.

I had traveled perhaps three or four meters when I had the epiphany that finding Qui-Gon would be a worthwhile endeavor. After all, Queen Amidala would probably not listen to the warnings of a dirty Padawan, but she would heed those issued by a Jedi Knight, even if he was filthy. Besides, on a purely emotional note, it would be reassuring to me to know definitively that he was as fine as always, although I would have felt a terrible resurgence in the Living Force if he had perished, because our bond was undeniably powerful enough to guarantee that, and I doubted that he would have been uncovered, anyway, since the droids had been oblivious of my presence, and Qui-Gon was more adept at concealing himself than I was at accomplishing the same feat for myself. Still, it would be a real plus to see him again. Sure, I was aware that one day I might have to abandon him in a nasty, life-threatening situation if the greater good demanded it, as the Jedi strictures required, but that day wasn't today, thank the Force for its small mercies such as that.

As these observations swirled around inside my head, I popped it out of the swamp's stagnant surface, and glanced around me for half a minute, absorbing everything, how the droids were marching now, how transports were racing through the forest terrain, causing ikopi, fulumpasets, motts, and peko pekos, animals that I recognized from my en route studies, to flee for any semblance of safety, as droids zoomed through the air on speeders, shooting down numerous enormous herbivores that the mindless automata mistakenly identified as a menace. I racked in and filed all this information in my brain in a matter of seconds, but I could detect no sign of my Master, and, reluctantly, I ducked my head back into the water, before one of the speeder droids noticed me, and fired at me.

A few strokes later, I figured that it was safe to poke out of the swamp once again, and, this time, I glimpsed the shadowy form of Qui-Gon darting through the fog and foliage. When I spotted him, I would have grinned, if I wasn't afraid of dropping my breather. As my Master, now pursued by an invading transport, something that banished my impulse to smile, because I hated to contemplate what would happen to him if the gigantic vehicle caught up to him, I plowed through the cesspit surrounding me toward shore.

A couple of minutes later, I reached the shore, and shoved myself out of the swamp as quickly as I could, before rushing off in the direction my Master had gone, hoping to catch up with him before something dreadful happened to him…As I hurried through the vegetation, I was able to track his trail through the ripples he emitted in the Force…Well, it was comforting that he had a Force presence, at all, but I wished that I couldn't feel his exertion through our bond, because it scared me, even if Jedi are not supposed to experience fear, according to our Code. Actually, that's not factual. That was one of the misconceptions I harbored under before I was apprenticed to Qui-Gon, then I learned from my Master that Jedi were not intended to be immune to fear, or any other emotion. We were just expected to govern our feelings, and rule them, rather than being dominated by them. It was quite an elementary notion that I still had difficulty grasping, which I suppose is why I didn't connect very well with others, because you couldn't be controlled by emotions you didn't possess. But I did possess filial feelings for my Master, and, speaking of him, I wished that I hadn't felt that sudden surge in our bond…

However, there was no time to fret about that, because three speeders manned by droids were converging upon me, and I knew from the steady fire they were assailing me with that they had properly identified me as a threat. Reflexively, I ducked their blaster bolts, and whipped out my lightsaber. When I ignited it, though, an unpleasant wave of shock washed over me, because my typically sapphire blade was as black as space, and did not hum as it always did. Burn it, I had forgotten to turn off the power before I had jumped into the swamp, and I didn't even have the excuse of doing it instinctively under attack. (Not that it was a brilliant excuse, but it would have been a light-year better than nothing.)

Great, now all I could do was dodge the bullets, as I fled, which I did, but, unfortunately, the droids navigated their speeders through the flora after me. As I continued to twist around the blaster bolts, I picked up my pace, hoping that I would be able to outrun the droids, or maybe that they would lose interest in me, and decide to murder some other piece of fauna, instead. The chances of either of these events occurring was less than nil, and it was truly pathetic that a Jedi Padawan was depending on such slim odds…

Fortunately, something else happened, instead. As I raced through the forest, Qui-Gon, whose robes were in as messy a condition as my own, came into view. In a practiced motion, he switched on his lightsaber, and deflected the bolts the droids shot at me back at their owners, who had not been equipped with shield generators, and were destroyed by the barrage raining down on them from Qui-Gon's weapon. The now driverless crafts sped into nearby trees, where they exploded on impact, scattering hissing and sparking parts everywhere.

I doubled over panting, not because I was exhausted, since I could have run for at least two more kilometers before I would have been compelled to slow my pace, but because I didn't want to look at my Master. I knew I had been careless, and I couldn't face the man, since he doubtlessly was aware of that fact, as well. Still, I'd have to address the issue at some point, and so I figured I might as well do so now, before more droids arrived on the scene.

"Sorry, Master," I apologized, coming up to stand beside him, as a reddish, gangly creature with earflaps that flopped down to his waist that I hadn't observed while I was under attack by the droids on the speeders, and then had been staring at the ground in humiliations, pushed himself out of a mud puddle. Wonderful, another witness for my stupidity. That was just what I needed to make this magnificent day even better. "The water fried my weapon."

Too embarrassed to explain further, I withdrew my currently useless lightsaber, and held it out to him. Wordlessly, he accepted the weapon I proffered, examined it critically, and then eyed me severely. "You forgot to turn the power off again, didn't you?"

"Yes, Master." I nodded sheepishly, knowing that it was a foolish mistake a senior Padawan shouldn't have made, although, as Yoda points out "Humility endless is," mainly because, as Master Windu contends, "You're never too old to make another giant mistake." I'm living proof of the second statement, anyhow. My chagrin was only increased when the lanky stranger shot me a sympathetic look, since, as a Jedi I was not accustomed to being pitied by the beings I was supposed to rescue.

"It won't take too long to recharge," Qui-Gon educated me, as if I wasn't aware of such a fact. Yet, maybe I didn't know as much as I believed I did. After all, if I was so clever, why in the universe would I not switch off my power before diving into that swamp? Also, why would I have jumped into that benighted swamp in the first place, anyhow? There was a question nobody would ever know the answer to, because even I couldn't recall why I had done it, and I was the person who had done it. "But I hope you've finally learned this lesson, my young Padawan."

What exactly this lesson was he didn't feel compelled to reiterate, at least. We both knew that a Jedi's lightsaber is far more than merely a weapon, it is an extension of his or her being, and, therefore, is his or her life, which means that a Jedi ought to be careful with it, meaning that the power should be turned off before diving into a body of water, obviously.

"Yes, Master," I answered in a subdued tone.

Before Qui-Gon could reply, the exotic creature shot me another sympathetic glance, and demanded rhetorically of my Master, "Yousa saved moi again, hey?"

When I heard this garbled grammar, I felt a surge of annoyance that a being whose Basic was barely decipherable would pity me, when I had been educated at the Temple, and had a much better education than he did. I didn't need his, of all beings', pity.

"What's this?" I arched an eyebrow at Qui-Gon, instead of introducing myself to the being, my voice implying that the creature was something inanimate and gross that had affixed itself to the soles of our boots, rather than a sentient being.

I expected him to reprimand me for my typical lack of courtesy to what I deemed as pathetic lifeforms that he always managed to pick up on our journeys, but he apparently had more significant concerns on his mind, or else wasn't a fan of the native, either, for he merely responded absently, "A local. Let's go, before more of those droids show up."

More information on the local would have been useful, because I already knew that the reddish being was a native Gungan, as I had read a little about them in the holofiles Jocasta Nu had provided us with for the mission, and I knew that the Gungans and the people who had colonized Naboo from the Core had fought each other a century and a half ago, with the Naboo trying to conquer the whole world, and the native Gungans defending their home planet fiercely. Then, after two years of brutal warfare, the Gungans and Naboo, had reached a truce: the Naboo could settle in the plains, and the Gungans would dwell undisturbed in the swamps. Privately, I believed that the Naboo had gotten the better end of the deal, since the plains were reputed to be quite beautiful, and would be far more valuable as far as real estate and agriculture were concerned. In fact, the only way the swamps would have a real estate value was if a Hutt was on the market for a place to live, and then the Gungan habitat would be ideal. The cesspit I had left half a standard hour ago could be advertised as a bathtub for a Hutt, at any rate.

However, I didn't press Qui-Gon for more data because I really didn't care about this latest pathetic lifeform of my Master's, and, besides, I didn't feel like encountering any more battle droids with my lightsaber being sadly out of commission owing to my foolishness. Instead, I followed Qui-Gon as he sprinted off into the jungle, paying no mind to the Gungan that whimpered in our wake, "Mure? Mure did you spake?"

When we didn't answer, he charged after us, and we ran through the rainforest in quiet for awhile, before the Gungan panted, "Ex-squeeze-me, but da moto grande safe place would be Otoh Gunga. 'Tis where I grew up. 'Tis safe city."

I only comprehended about a quarter of this rambling, but my Master obviously was more skilled at translating this scrambled syntax into Basic, for he suddenly halted, and exclaimed, "A city! Can you take us there, Jar Jar?"

As the Gungan called Jar Jar and I both stopped running, as well, Jar Jar hedged, "Ah, will, on second taut―no, not willy."

When he established as much, vexation swelled up inside me. Why would he even mention that there was a settlement around here, if he couldn't lead us there? Was he trying to aggravate us? I shot Qui-Gon an exasperated glance, but he merely responded with a look that instructed me to be patient, and wait for clarification, even if we could hardly afford the time to negotiate with a native when Naboo was being invaded by the Trade Federation.

"Iss embarrassing, boot― my afraid my've been banished," faltered Jar Jar, his eyes widening in emphasis. "My forgotten der bosses would do terrible things to my, if my goen back dare."

My exasperation waned slightly, overcome by curiosity at what felony he had committed that warranted banishment from Gungan society― murder or rape? Yet, he didn't seem the type to perpetrate either of these heinous crimes. He just was a bumbling, cringing, inarticulate being, a textbook example of patheticness, but he was no criminal.

However, such musings were wiped from my mind when echoes of droids, transports, and speeders smashing through the jungle crashed upon all of our ears, and I felt my need to escape from the enemy army, so that we could warn the Naboo, rise up inside me again, and with it, my annoyance that Jar Jar was refusing to take us to Otoh Gunga, or whatever the Gungan city was named.

"Do you hear that?" demanded Qui-Gon of the Gungan, taking advantage of the situation, because if the Gungan's expanding eyeballs were any indication, he not only heard the approaching foe, but also comprehended that it boded nothing but ill. It was a rare demonstration of intellect in a pathetic lifeform, but it was one that would function to our benefit, luckily. "That's the sound of a thousand terrible things heading this way."

"And when they find us, they will crush us, grind us into little pieces, then blast us into oblivion," I completed with more glee than a Jedi, strictly speaking, should have displayed in this circumstance. Technically, the analysis was accurate, since the droid military would, indeed, do their best to kill us all, but I should not have derived pleasure of any kind from terrorizing another being; that was unacceptable. Still, if my comment manipulated Jar Jar into showing us a safe haven, so we could escape in time to warn the Naboo, had my actions been so horrible? I knew the answer to that, though. The ends didn't justify the means, if the ends were cruel. Cunning and ruthless pursuit of the goal at any cost was the way of the Sith, not the Jedi.

Yet, I couldn't prevent the amusement that coursed through me when Jar Jar's mouth gaped open in alarm, so that his mouth was as wide as his eyes were, and, when I glanced at my Master, I saw by his twinkling eyes that I was not about to be chided.

"Yousa point is well seen," conceded Jar Jar, gulping and rolling his eyes in distress at my somewhat graphic description of the fate that awaited us if we remained here. He gestured frantically toward yet another swamp, to my disappointment, because that body of water was quickly becoming my least favorite. "Dis way. Hurry!"

With Jar Jar in the lead now, we dashed away into the twilight mist again.

Fifteen minutes later, Jar Jar, Qui-Gon, and I emerged from a deep sand of swamp grass and thick rushes at the fringe of a lake so murky that it was utterly impossible to spot anything reflecting off its surface. As Jar Jar leaned over, his three-fingered hands resting upon his bony knees as he labored to regain his breath, I took advantage of the opportunity to meet my Master's eye, and shake my head in faint reproof, establishing plainly that I disapproved of his choice to depend on this idiotic creature as a guide without actually risking being impudent and voicing such sentiments aloud.

However, Qui-Gon paid no attention to my headshake, and fixed his eyes on Jar Jar as the Gungan rose, and, reinforcing my belief that he was not the sharpest vibroblade in the armory, glanced about him anxiously in either direction, his long ears bouncing with the movement, as though he were lost, and had no idea where he was supposed to head in order to reach his destination. Well, if he was lost, it served us right for following him. After all, the fool that followed an imbecile was the greater idiot, and that was not something that I wanted to consider now, because that meant that I was the greatest fool of all, since I had followed Qui-Gon, who had chased after Jar Jar, and here we all were as a result.

"How much farther?" my Master asked our obviously bewildered guide, distracting me from my thoughts.

"We go underwater, okeday?" Jar Jar pointed at the lake.

The Gungan city was underwater? I marveled inwardly, shooting Qui-Gon a surprised glance, just as he sent me one. Smiling slightly at the similarity of our reaction to the revelation of the location of Otoh Gunga, I fished around in my supply kit, which was attached to my belt, and withdrew my breather, as my Master pulled out his.

Surmising that we were preparing to dive into the depths of the lake after him, Jar Jar remarked, "Me warning yousa. Gungans no liken yousa outlanders. Yousa not gonna get warm welcome."

"Oh, don't worry," I snorted, eyeing my Master slyly as I recalled our all too brief negotiations with the Trade Federation viceroy. Truly, I didn't believe that Qui-Gon and I were in anyway jeopardized by the Gungans' hostility to outsiders, because they couldn't be less welcoming than the Federation, who had attempted to murder us with toxic gas, and who had deployed a squadron of battle droids to execute us if the gas failed to do so. Anyway, even if the Gungans were as horrible as the Trade Federation, Qui-Gon and I could always escape, and by that time, the troops would certainly have departed the swamp areas. "This hasn't been our day for warm welcomes." It had been our day for just the opposite, in fact, but why stress over particulars?

"Get going," Qui-Gon ordered, motioning Jar Jar into the lake. "We'll follow."

When he finished with this directive, he popped his breather into his mouth, as I did the same. As if to disclaim all responsibility for what would result from our visiting the Gungan metropolis, Jar Jar shrugged, pivoted back to face the lake, performed a rather amazing double somersault that impressed the gymnast in me, and disappeared into the gloomy water. After ascertaining that our breathers were, indeed, secure, Qui-Gon and I waded in after him.

It transpired that sunlight barely penetrated the water, and, less than a meter beneath the surface, the light already began to dim. Within minutes, it was difficult to see, and, as Jar Jar led us deeper and deeper into the fathoms, I feared that we would lose him in the ever-increasing darkness.

Then, abruptly, I spotted a gleam of light shining ahead, and relief sped through me as I realized that we were approaching Otoh Gunga. A few seconds later, I could discern a string of amber bubbles, blazing warmly and brightly in the dark water, the rich yellow glow they emanated illuminating the lake for meters around. The bubbles varied notably in size, with the largest being approximately seventy-five meters in height. A lacework of metal the color of rusted bronze topped the crest of each globe, helping the translucent walls maintain their shape, and linking the baubles together.

As we drew ever nearer, I could distinguish the outline of edifices inside the bubbles. Gungans strolled casually along the thoroughfares, while fish swam by mere meters away, outside the bubble wall. Now, we had almost reached the city, and I could make out the particulars of the structures, and the features of the inhabitants of Otoh Gunga conducting their daily business on the boulevards, so I started searching the bubble wall for a door or an air lock. Yet, I detected none, and Jar Jar plowed straight toward the side of the bubble and―incredibly―passed right through it into the urban center contained in its boundaries.

My eyes wide with disbelief, I watched as the translucent wall sealed seamlessly shut in his wake. It must have been a permeable hydrostatic membrane, I determined, stunned. It kept the water out, but permitted people to enter, so that the city didn't require an air lock. That was quite impressive, which meant that perhaps not all Gungans were as pathetic and dumb as Jar Jar. Recovering myself, I swam through the wall after Jar Jar with Qui-Gon on my right. Just as it had with Jar Jar, the odd membrane admitted us without resistance.

Once inside, we found ourselves on a platform that fed into a market square that was surrounded by shops and residences. Light emanated from the bubble's wall in a steady glow, brightening the space inside. When we tentatively removed our breathers, my Master and I discovered that the atmosphere was breathable for us humans.

As the three of us descended the stairs to the square below, water dripping from our clothing, Gungans noticed us for the first time, and scattered away from us, as though we carried a dreadful, contagious ailment, emitting gasps and screams of astonishment as they retreated from us.

Somebody must have contacted the local law enforcement agency, for we had hardly started walking down the street when a squad of uniformed Gungan soldiers appeared, riding bipedal mounts with billed faces reminiscent of their own features. The mounts were Kaadu I recollected from my research on the flight to Naboo, and they were swamp runners that possessed muscular legs, exceptional endurance, and keen senses. The Gungans themselves were armed with lethal-looking electropoles, which they utilized to motion back the distraught populace, while they advanced on us intruders on their domain.

"Heyday ho, Cap'n Tarpals." Jar Jar waved merrily at the leader of the squadron, only serving to make a bad circumstance markedly worse, as then would have been an impeccable opportunity to remain silent until addressed. "Me back!"

"Notta gain, Jar Jar Binks!" snarled Captain Tarpals, suggesting that horrid Basic was a defining element of Gungan culture, his eyes snapping with wrath. "Yousa goen ta Boss Nass. See what he say. Yousa mebbe in big trouble dis time."

Ignoring Qui-Gon and I temporarily, the captain dealt Jar Jar a swift jab with his electropole, sending a jolt through the hapless Gungan that lifted him half a meter off the ground. As he shoved himself up from the street where he had fallen as a consequence of the surprise assault, Jar Jar rubbed his rump ruefully, complaining under his breath about the captain's savagery.

Since we were being taken to Boss Nass, who was apparently the Gungan leader, whom we hoped to enlist to aid us, Qui-Gon and I did not protest as the squadron of soldiers led us through the city, and into what Jar Jar whispered to us was the High Tower Boardroom.

The High Tower Boardroom was transparent on all sides, and we could clearly see small, glittering fish swimming outside the membrance, resembling tiny stars pinpricked against the ebony backdrop of the galaxy. A lengthy, circular bench dominated one end of the chamber, with one section set above the rest. All the chairs were occupied by Gungan officials in their stately robes of office, and a pathway was quickly cleared for us newcomers through the hordes of Gungans already assembled to petition their government.

The Gungan in the most elevated seat, who introduced himself as Boss Nass, was an obese being so compressed by age and weight that I found it impossible to envision that he had ever been half as slender as Jar Jar. Folds of skin draped from his body in nauseating, loose layers, his neck melded into his shoulders, and his face bore such a sour expression that even Jar Jar was cowed when we were brought forward by Captain Tarpals.

"What yousa want, outlanders?" bellowed Boss Nass at Qui-Gon and I after he had introduced himself, as we approached, his volume making him easily discernable over the murmuring of the Gungan bureaucrats.

I watched as my Master related what had brought him and me to Naboo, warning them of the imminent invasion, and requesting the assistance of the Gungans in getting in contact with the Naboo before it was too late. To my surprise, the Gungans listened patiently to his tale, and did not interrupt him, waiting until he was done before speaking.

However, when Qui-Gon concluded, Boss Nass shook his head, and pronounced, "Yousa can't be here. Dis army of maccaneks up dere tis not our problem. Tis yousa problem."

I opened my mouth to dispute this claim, but realized that my Master was about to speak, and closed my mouth instantly, letting him take the lead as a Padawan should.

"That army of battle droids is about to attack the Naboo," he insisted. "We must warn them."

"We no like da Naboo," Boss Nass growled, "and dey no like da Gungans. Da Naboo dink dey more smart den us. Dey dink dey brains so big. Dey have nuten to do with us cause we live in the swamp and dey live up dere. Long time no have nutten to do with each other. Dis not gonna change because of maccaneks."

"After that army takes control of the Naboo, they will come here and take control of you," I informed him, trying to play on his desire to preserve his people.

"No, me dink not," chortled Boss Nass, his laughter vexing me more than his isolationist view and his butchered Basic combined. "Me talk mebbe once or twice with Naboo in whole life, and no talk ever with maccaneks. Maccaneks no come here! Dey not even know Gungans exist!"

As the Gungan council nodded in assent, muttering verbal approval of the chieftain's wisdom, I countered, "You and the Naboo are interconnected. What happens to one of you will affect the other. You must understand this."

Actually, I didn't think that his small mid could comprehend this or anything else, but it was worth a shot. Unfortunately, however, I was correct in my assessment of the Gungan ruler, for he dismissed this with an indolent wave of his hand. "We know nutten of yousa, outlander, and we no care about da Naboo."

I was about to argue my point further, but my Master shot me a look that commanded me to quiet myself, and I snapped my mouth shut in compliance, as he strode forward. "Then, speed us on our way," he reasoned, invoking his connection to the Force, and employing it with a flick of his hand to influence the chief's mind, assuming it was there, of course.

"We speed yousa far away," Boss Nass agreed, after studying my Master blankly for a long moment, in which I held my breath, anxious to learn if my mentor's trick would work.

"We need transport to Theed," added Qui-Gon, referring to the capital of Naboo, and waving his hand again to bear on the Gungan's mind, which was apparently there if only in a weak form.

"Okeday," affirmed Boss Nass. "We give yousa bongo. Da speediest way tada Naboo is goen through da planet core. Yousa go now."

As I shivered at the notion of traveling through the world's core, which I knew from my reading on the trip here, was filled with sea monsters that would reduce even the most jaded Black Sun vigo to tears of terror, Qui-Gon bowed, and replied, "Thank you for your help. We go in peace."

Copying him, I bowed to the Gungan leaders. As we walked away, a question crossed my mind, and I inquired, "Master, what is a bongo?"

"A ship of some sort, I hope." Qui-Gon cocked an eyebrow at me, mildly amused that he had not entertained the possibility that it wouldn't be this.

My "Me too" was chopped off before it could begin when Qui-Gon ceased walking abruptly, as he registered that Jar Jar was standing forlornly to one side, awaiting his fate, binders encircling his wrists.

"Master," I hissed, reminding him to focus on the objective of the mission, and not to involve himself too personally in the affairs of this Gungan at the expense of saving the Naboo. After all, his mandate did not demand that he rescue everyone in the galaxy, but rather that he aid the most beings possible, which meant sacrificing Jar Jar for the entire human population of Naboo. It was a matter of mathematics, since no life was worth thousands of others. Surely, my Master would recognize this.

However, Qui-Gon did not heed or even acknowledge my warming. Instead, he gazed at Jar Jar, as the Gungan declared, "Dey setten yousa up for bad fall. Goen through da core is bad danger."

"Thank you, my friend," Qui-Gon murmured, bobbing his head in understanding, as I squelched my annoyance at my Master's compulsion to chat with a being that had already fulfilled his purpose by leading us here, when the creature was only repeating obvious facts that we already were aware of. We really didn't have time for this.

I was about to remind my mentor of this when Jar Jar mumbled sheepishly, shaking his handcuffs so that they clanked together, "Hey, any hep here would be hot."

At this juncture, Qui-Gon hesitated, his forehead crinkling pensively, and I took advantage of the opportunity to advise him, "We are short of time, Master."

"Time spent here may help us later," pointed out Qui-Gon, his eyes still distant, as he debated his next course of action. "Jar Jar might be of some use to us."

Narrowing my eyes, I regarded the man that was like a father to me. He was letting the needs of one being outweigh those of an entire planet, and all because of an emotional connection. It was un-Jedi, and I had to explain that to him, yet the expression on his face stated quite clearly that he was currently residing on a loftier plateau, a higher plane, where my thoughts and feelings were of minimal import now that he had made up his mind, and would determinedly push to achieve his goal, regardless of what I said or did.

"I sense a loss of focus," I observed, daring to be impertinent, because I believed that he was paying no attention to me. Unfortunately, I was misguided in this assumption, for his blue eyes centered on me sharply, and all rebellion in me vanished, replaced by fear. It wasn't that I was nervous that he would yell at me, because he had never shouted at me before, even when we had disagreed; it was only that I didn't want to disappoint him― I feared his disapproval as much as I craved his approval.

"Be mindful, young Obi-Wan," he chided me in the gentle voice of his that was infinitely worse than a shout could ever be. "Your sensitivity to the Living Force is not your strength."

I noted mentally that the very fact that I wasn't wrapped up in the Living Force allowed me to perceive the situation more accurately than he could. After all, it was only through the Unifying Force that it could be understood that the concerns of a million individuals superseded those of one, and the Unifying Force had never been his strength― it had had always been my realm, not his. Yet, I established none of these mutinous thoughts aloud. Instead, I averted my eyes as Qui-Gon whirled around to face Boss Nass again, and asked, "What is to become of Jar Jar Binks here?"

"Binks breaks nocomeback law." Boss Nass shrugged languidly. "Breaks exile. Hesa be punished."

"Not too severely, I trust?" my Master pressed, as I stifled my impatience with this whole scenario with considerable effort. "He has been of great help to us."

"Pounded unto death, dis one," smirked Boss Nass, as Jar Jar moaned in dismay, and I decided that Qui-Gon was right. We couldn't leave the Gungan here to be executed after he had served us. We owed him a debt, and we couldn't just abandon him. Before, when we didn't know the harsh sentence he faced, we would have been able to depart, but now we couldn't without rescuing him first. It was only just that we save the life of the being who made it possible for us to assist the Naboo.

"We need a navigator to get us through the core to Theed," Qui-Gon told Boss Nass. "I saved Jar Jar's life on the surface. He owes me for that. I claim a life debt on him."

Bos Nass glared at Qui-Gon for a long moment, his mouth twisting in contemplation. Then, his eyes sought out Jar Jar, and he snapped, "Binks?"

Obediently, Jar Jar strode out from between his pair of sentries, and stood beside Qui-Gon and I. When Boss Nass demanded if he had a life debt to my Master, Jar Jar bobbed his head affirmatively, looking chagrined.

"Your gods demand that he satisfy that debt," Qui-Gon went on. "His life belongs to me now."

Again, Boss Nass paused, before stating, "His life tis yous. Worthless, anywhat. Beggone with him."

At Boss Nass' words, a guard hurried forward, and removed Jar Jar's wrist binders. As soon as they were off, Qui-Gon commanded, "Come."

"Through da core?" protested Jar Jar, apparently only just now realizing what had transpired, as Qui-Gon and I dragged him away from the chamber before Boss Nass could change his mind. "Count mesa outta dis one! Better dead here den deader in da core…Ye guds, whata mesa sayin'?"

As I tugged Jar Jar away, I thought that traveling through the core didn't sound much better than fighting all the Trade Federation battle droids, but at least this way we had a slim chance of getting to Queen Amidala before the droids did. If we survived the trip, of course, something that was definitely far from a given.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Sorry if it took me awhile to update, but I have had a lot of homework to contend with recently, so that has slowed down my writing. (Whoever claimed that senior year is a breeze clearly wasn't trying to juggle three APs.) Hopefully, this chapter was worth the wait. Let me know by reviewing. (Hint, nudge.) The chapter might be shorter than usual, but I thought that this was a decent break-oof point, and so I ended it here.

Bigger Fish

If it was possible, which, apparently, it was, my discomfiture with the notion of traveling through Naboo's core to reach Theed only increased when my eyes alighted on the bongo the Gungans had furnished for us. It transpired that the bongo was a sort of minuscule, bat-winged submarine with three bubble canopies jetting out of it main body, and a peculiar drive that resembled long, undulating tentacles trailing behind the transport. Frankly, the bongo was not about to win any interstellar fashion awards anytime in this millennium, or the next one, either, for that matter.

Now, I'm not much of a critic of submarines, ships, speeders, and spacecraft, and, as long as a vehicle conveys me where I need to go, I'm not one to complain about it. Therefore, I would have been content to ride in the bongo if it had seemed to be reliable…or even functional. As it was, the bongo looked prepared to blow up or shatter if touched incorrectly, an action that would only entail brushing a pinky finger against it.

Still, I decided that it was better than swimming, or walking to our destination, so I climbed into the sub cautiously, convinced that it would topple apart as I entered it. However, it didn't, and I was able to follow my Master inside, with Jar Jar bringing up the rear, without incidence.

When we had all clambered into the craft, I glanced at Qui-Gon, hoping that he would elect to steer, because driving was not my forte, and we'd need all the agility this ramshackle vehicle could muster when we had to evade the savage sea monsters that inhabited the core who would prey upon us once we intruded upon their domain, and I refused to even contemplate the dreadful outcome that awaited us if Jar Jar was behind the wheel― the only upshot to the latter scenario was that we wouldn't be devoured by a predator of the deeps, since we would have rammed into a Gungan residence long before that― but Qui-Gon shook his head, and waved his hand at the pilot's seat, indicating that I should steer.

Well, you'll never improve if you don't practice under real field conditions, I reminded myself, as I slipped into the chair as ordered. To my annoyance, Jar Jar chose to sit down in the co-pilot's chair beside me, leaving Qui-Gon to settle himself in the back.

"Dis is nutsen," grumbled Jar Jar, as he plopped down next to me. Personally, I deemed this as the understatement of the decade. Nuts, that classified our decision to travel through the core at all. Choosing to do so in this broken-down craft was beyond lunacy. Put succinctly, it was suicidal, which is not exactly a Jedi attribute, but, then again, neither is lying to oneself, so I may as well acknowledge the truth.

I didn't establish this aloud, though, because there was no profit in moaning about something once a resolution has been arrived at. Instead, I hunched over the controls of the bongo, familiarizing myself with their functions, and paying extra heed to the one that opened the emergency exit, as odds were excellent that we would have cause to employ it at some point during our journey, and blocking out Jar Jar as he babbled incoherently about nothing of any significance to anybody, even if they could comprehend it.

When I was as comfortable with the controls as I would ever be, I switched on the engine, and pulled us away from the Otoh Gunga dock, moving slowly and tentatively, because I didn't want to strain the engines too much so soon, and have them explode on us before we had even gone four meters.

As we sailed away from the luminescent Gungan metropolis, Jar Jar declared, "Wesa doomed."

Qui-Gon did not respond to this fatalistic assessment, and I was preoccupied with dodging towering corals, as we sped farther and farther away from Otoh Gunga. I hoped that Jar Jar would provide me with some instructions soon, because the reefs radiating out in all directions appeared identical to me, and I did not know where I ought head next.

Unfortunately, his next words dashed my fragile hopes, for he spun around, his earflaps swaying ludicrously, and inquired of Qui-Gon, "Heydey ho? Where wesa goen, Capt'n Quiggon?"

"You're the navigator," my Master pointed out, as I steered us into the darker waters, reasoning that darkness revealed depth, which, in turn, demonstrated that we were closer to the planet's center.

"Me?" Jar Jar stuttered, his eyes widening like black holes. "Yousa dreaming. Don't know nutten about this, me."

I realized that he was right about this. In fact, the only thing that would be more horrid than having him serve as our navigator would be having him as our Basic teacher, but, surely, that would be against the "no cruel and unusual punishment" clause of our Republic's constitution…

My Master, on the other hand, did not accept the validity of Jar Jar's argument, for he merely patted him on back, offering by manner of reassurance, "Relax, my friend. The Force will guide us."

"Da Force?" snorted Jar Jar. "What tis da Force? Maxibig dis thing, dis Force, yousa betcha. Gonna save mesa, yousa, all of us, huh?"

When I heard this butchered syntax, I longed to close my eyes in dismay, but I managed not to by reminding myself that if I was pilot, I should keep my eyes open, since we might smash into a sheer subterranean rock wall if I didn't, and that was something we really didn't have time to add today's agenda. Instead, I gritted my teeth, restraining myself from voicing any of the nine million scathing comments pertaining to Jar Jar that were racing around in my brain aloud by noting that while this was a catastrophe waiting to occur, it was not mine to handle, but rather my Master's, since he had been the one to drag Jar Jar along.

I knew why Qui-Gon had the bumbling Gungan accompany us, even if I didn't approve of his motives in the slightest. That is, my mentor hadn't taken Jar Jar with us because he was a brilliant navigator, or because he had evidenced even a modicum of talent in any other aspect, but because he was yet another project that he, with his persistent disregard for the dictates of the Council when they didn't serve his purpose, had judged had value, and, therefore, was worth fulfilling, no matter how much it distracted him from his primary mission.

It was a tendency of his that both mystified and aggravated me. I respected my Master immensely, since he had a commanding presence among the Jedi, was a powerful and valiant warrior, who was not intimidated by even the most daunting challenges in the known universe, and, at the very core of his being, was a compassionate man. Probably, it was this final attribute that placed him at loggerheads with the Council so frequently, I mused, because it led him to champion causes that many people, like me, hardly thought were worth troubling with. He possessed a unique vision of a Jedi's purpose, of the nature of his service, and, therefore, of the causes he should promote, and he adhered to his vision with unwavering devotion.

This wasn't necessarily a flaw in itself, but it did carry with it the perils of overreaching― of striving to accomplish too much, and, as a result, failing in all. Maybe I was just a Padawan, who was young and headstrong, but perhaps these vulnerabilities enhanced my ability to comprehend the hazards of overextending, and I knew that was what was happening currently with my Master.

Yet, such thoughts were a distraction at the moment, while I was driving, so, I yanked myself away from them, and focused entirely on steering our vessel through the warren that was Naboo's core. Unfortunately, I was disrupted in this undertaking by Jar Jar, who was still rambling illogically and inconclusively, beside me, while casting about frantically through the viewport, doubtlessly seeking a signpost that would afford him the invaluable opportunity to at least pretend he knew what he was doing.

As I watched this out of the corners of my eyes, frustration boiled inside me, and no matter how much I commanded myself not to say anything, I couldn't resist the temptation any longer.

"Here, take over," I ordered the Gungan in a voice that was too clipped for politeness, as I shoved myself out of my seat, and sat by my Master, instead. Incapable of restraining my tongue anymore, I asked quietly, since I didn't want to offend the organism that now controlled the submarine, "Master, why do you keep dragging these pathetic lifeforms along with us when they are of so minimal use?"

"He seems that way now, perhaps, but you must look deeper, Obi-Wan," countered Qui-Gon, smiling faintly in mild amusement.

I, however, wasn't amused. As far as I was concerned, I had scrutinized Jar Jar thoroughly enough. He was as beneficial as a lifeboat with a sizeable hole in its bottom, and that was the end of the matter. As such, any hypothetical use of the Gungan was born of wishful imagining, and that was all.

"I've looked deeply enough, Master, and there is nothing to see. He is an unneeded distraction," I maintained, and then recognized belatedly that I hadn't expressed myself in the most diplomatic fashion. Before I could attempt to salvage my remark, though, Qui-Gon replied.

"Maybe he is that for the moment," conceded Qui-Gon placidly, "but that may change in time."

I opened my mouth to state, respectfully, that I doubted this would be the case, but my Master raised his hand for silence, and, out of habit, I snapped my mouth shut, as he went on, "Listen to me, my young Padawan. There are secrets hidden in the Force that are not easily discovered. The Force is vast and pervasive, and all living things are an integral part of it, although it is not always apparent what their function is, however. Sometimes, that purpose must be sensed first in order that it may be revealed later."

Like a proper Padawan should, I considered his words, but I was still dubious, since that sounded more like a retrospective justification of an imprudent and impulsive behavior, rather than a carefully reasoned analysis.

"Some secrets are best left concealed, Master." I shook my head, and then pressed on with an old grievance, "Besides, why must you always be the one to do the uncovering? You know how the Council feels about these―" I paused, striving to draw forth an appropriate word from my vocabulary banks, and finally settled upon one― "detours. Perhaps, just once, the unveiling should be left to someone else."

"No, secrets must be exposed when found," he educated me, a melancholy expression sliding across his leonine features, as he voiced his typical philosophy, which was the converse of my own. "Detours must be taken when encountered, and, if you are the one who stands at the crossroads or the place of concealment, you must never leave it to another to act in your stead."

I hesitated, staring out the viewport at the coral reefs we were whizzing past, reflecting on his comment. To be honest, I didn't understand his logic fully, and the fractions that I did comprehend I wasn't positive I agreed with, but he was my teacher, after all, and I was his pupil. Therefore, he had far more wisdom than I, and that meant it was my duty to submit to his will in this.

Anyway, this was scarcely worth debating. Jar Jar, unfortunately, wasn't going to be separated from us any time in the imminent future, and anymore disagreement on the subject would be counterproductive, as it could jeopardize our bond, and that amounted to far more to me than any Gungan's presence or lack thereof did. After all, Qui-Gon was like a father to me, since I had never been truly acquainted with my blood parents, as, like all Jedi, I had been identified in infancy, and taken, with parental consent, of course, to the Jedi Temple, which had become my home, just as the Jedi Order had become my kin. The last thing I desired was for a rift to develop between my Master and me.

"I respect your judgment, Master," I murmured, biting my lip. Somewhat ruefully, I admitted, "But it doesn't stop me from worrying."

"You worry too much," Qui-Gon chuckled softly, and I wondered if it was such a crime that I fretted so much, when he obviously didn't worry at all, meaning that I had to perform double duty, compensating for his infatuation with the present, and lack of concern about the future. Gently, he clasped my shoulder, and added more soberly, "Be patient with me. A little faith sometimes goes a long way."

"Yes, Master." I nodded, because I trusted him with my life, so how could I not in this comparatively minor affair?

Then, I rose, and switched places with Jar Jar again, aware that the stress of navigating this craft would cause a mental or nervous breakdown in the hapless and excitable Gungan if he was engaged in this endeavor for much more time.

As I took over the controls once more, I figured that I would invest in the effort of attempting to gain a clearer perspective of this creature that my Master somehow deemed deserving of extensive defense, and I inquired, "Why were you banished, Jar Jar?"

"Tis a longo tale." Jar Jar shrugged his lean shoulders languidly. "Buta small part woulda be mesa…oh…uh…clumsy."

"They banished you because you're clumsy?" I demanded skeptically, frowning at this inarticulate explanation. I had been introduced to scores of different cultures throughout my training with Qui-Gon, and I had read about hundreds more, but I had yet to stumble across one with laws enacted against ungainly beings. Sure, many societies had mores against carelessness and absentmindedness, two undesirable traits that Jar Jar possessed in abundance, but infractions upon these mores were not regarded as felonies, as long as carelessness or absentmindedness did not lead one to breaking the law unwittingly. Maybe Jar Jar was struggling to convey in his lumbering narration that his clumsiness had inadvertently made him commit a serious crime.

"Mesa cause-ed one or duey wee lettal bitty ax-adetntes," continued Jar Jar in a flippant tone, flailing his arm around expansively, interrupting my view of the terrain I was steering us through for a few seconds, as a result of his animation. "Yud-say, boom da gasser, and crash into Der Bosses heybibbler. Den dey banish mesa."

I was not entirely certain what he was yammering on about, and was about to request further clarification, when a resounding thump reverberated throughout the vessel, as something whacked the bongo, prompting it to lurch to one side, and causing us all to surge forward in our seats.

An enormous crustacean with multiple legs, and gigantic, gaping jaws ringed with rapier-teeth had hooked us with its long tongue, and was reeling us steadily toward its wide maw. As a human, I was quite accustomed to residing on the top of the food chain, and I wished for no classes on what it felt like to be gobbled up by organisms ranked higher upon it, especially not now, when I had a world to save with my Master.

As Jar Jar shrieked hysterically, I wrestled with the controls, struggling to liberate us, to no avail. No matter what I did, the sea creature staunchly maintained its clutch on us, drawing us ever closer to it! Much too soon for my tastes, its jaws commenced grinding away at the rear of our sub. Wonderful. When it was finished with its meal of the submarine, it could swallow us in one giant gulp for dessert.

I was just trying to make peace with the Force before I became monster food, when, abruptly, we shot free like a cork out of bottle. Hardly daring to believe our fortune, I glanced back over my shoulder as we rushed away from the scene, and spotted that the fish that had tried to consume our vehicle and us was now writhing in the teeth of an even larger sea monster.

"There's always a bigger fish," observed Qui-Gon sagely, as I refocused on driving, picking up our speed, so that the second beast we had met would not be able to track us down, remarking to myself that if it was more gigantic than that one, I didn't want to make its acquaintance, if I could avoid it.

Unluckily, it transpired that the bongo had acquired injuries as a result of its contact with the sea monster that had been about to scarf it down, for, as I wove the craft around an outcropping, the lights flickered, and then blinked out entirely. Barely a nanosecond after the lights faded into oblivion, there was a sizzling noise, and then, water was trickling into the cabin, and all the lines were shorting.

I had to act, I recognized dimly, or else we'd be buried thousands of fathoms deep in the ocean core, and our bones would be the banquet of many a sea monster, and hundreds of Naboo civilians would join us in death, only they would be slaughtered by the qualmless Trade Federation, instead. My fingers numb, I withdrew a multitool from my supply kit, and started to repair the submarine.

As I fiddled around, trying to mend the power lines, Jar Jar wailed in panic, obviously of the opinion that disrupting the man who was fixing the transport would ensure our survival. I was about to ask him, as considerately as I could under the circumstances, to quiet himself a little, so I could at least hear myself think, when my Master intervened, addressing the Gungan in his deep, placating voice.

"Stay calm," he directed. "We're not in trouble yet."

"What yet?" yelped Jar Jar, bulbous eyes popping so much that they almost exploded, covering us all in a doubtlessly revolting and sticky substance. "Monstairs out dare. Leakin' in here, all and sinkin', and noo power! Yousa nutsen. When yousa tink wesa in trouble?"

Privately, I had to confess that I could see his point, although he could have made his case far more eloquently than he did. Still, I was relieved when I twisted the last handful of wires into their appropriate location, because that meant that we could leave this perilous situation as a sitting diki bird, and, at least, continue our dangerous journey.

"Power is back," I announced to my two comrades, as the lights switched back on…revealing yet another gargantuan fish in front of our noses.

"Monstairs is back!" screamed Jar Jar, shouting out what was plain to all of us, because we all were blessed with functioning eyeballs. "Wesa in trouble _now_?"

Neither Qui-Gon or I responded to this demand. I snatched up the controls again, and swung the ship around. When the gigantic fish-creature darted after us, I accelerated, and the sub flew out of the tunnel― straight toward the huge eel-like monster that had gobbled up the first one we had encountered. Today, clearly, was not the best day of my life, or even among the top one hundred, or thousand, for that matter.

As usual, Jar Jar whimpered and moaned, as the monster snapped at the bongo, and I pleaded with the Force to fortify my makeshift repairs. Luckily, the Force was indeed with us on some level, for the monster's teeth missed us by centimeters, closing upon empty air with an irate snarl. It snapped again, but, this time, its jaws shut around the fish-creature that had pursued us through the tunnel.

Aware that such a distraction would not reappear, I rapidly sent the sub zipping away from this merry scene, and, for what seemed like hours, or years, or even decades, I wove, ducked, and dodged the bongo past dozens of massive sea monsters, all of whom had one thing in common in addition to their terrifying features: they were absolutely ravenous.

Finally, the water grew lighter, and the monsters sparser in both size and number, and soon our transport was rising toward the planet's surface again, to my elation, because, although I didn't know what I would discover up there, it could hardly be more awful than what I had endured in the core.

In the midst of a circle of bubbles, our craft broke out of the water, and into the open air, at last. The engine died when I cut it, and we were left drifting to a gentle, hypnotic current. Glad at the prospect of breathing fresh, rather than recycled, artificial air, I opened the canopies, and filled my lungs with standard Naboo atmosphere, relieved that the sub's power supply had allowed us to travel all the way through the core, because there had been occasions throughout the trip when I had feared it would be otherwise. We had even reached the right place, for, stretched on the shoreline, was the city of Theed, capital of Naboo, its pristine marble edifices gleaming against a backdrop of azure sky, and emerald forests and hills, resembling a holocard that tourists could send to friends.

Beside me, Jar Jar heaved a sigh of mingled relief and awe. "Wesa safe now!" he pronounced.

Yet, he had spoken too soon, for when we disembarked at the Theed docks, we were accosted by a droid, who leveled its gun squarely upon us, and barked, "Drop your weapons!'

As one unit, Qui-Gon and I pivoted, as the battle droid insisted, "I said, 'Drop your weapons!'"

Instead of complying with its directive, Qui-Gon ignited his lightsaber in one smooth motion, as I had foreseen he would, and slashed the skeletal battle droid in half. With his adversary neatly dispatched in one blow, my Master deactivated his blade, and I studied the sparking wreckage below our feet.

I realized that, because the Trade Federation had arrived at Theed before us, this process of protecting the Naboo was going to be more complicated than we had hoped, which was how everything in this mission had turned out thus far, so it was beyond me why that fact still astonished me, but it did. I supposed it would always take me a little aback when something goes awry, because such it the nature of sentient lifeforms throughout the galaxy. In our arrogance, we believe we can dominate everything, so it is always a shock when fate makes fools of us, and strikes us low.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Sorry if this chapter isn't too great, but I wrote it when I was suffering under a nasty cold and a fever. Every year something like that spreads through our school like the bubonic plague multiple times in a year, which proves that our janitors ought to clean off the lunch tables between lunch periods. (My sophomore brother did an experiment for his Foods class that showed the toilet seats in the public facilities were cleaner than our lunch tables. There's an appetizing revelation, huh?)

Reviews: Are more than welcome, and if you review, you'll be transported to a galaxy far, far away…Well, to be honest, no, you won't, unless you catch my fever via the Internet, and start to hallucinate.

Foiled Flight

When we entered Theed, it was eerily reminiscent of the so-called "spirit" towns of the Outer Rim Territories, settlements that had sprung up abruptly around a mine or quarry, and then had been abandoned as rapidly and unceremoniously when all the valuable resources had been tapped, because there wasn't a living organism to be spotted on any nearby boulevard, and, yet, I couldn't shake off the conviction that the streets should be thronging, the apartments and stores full, and the parks packed with giggling children in the rec domes, and young lovers strolling along the tidy stone pathways.

This was no outback, rustic post populated by gruff, unlettered men, and the crude women who sold themselves to them for credits or a tankard of Corellian ale. This had been a hub of culture, if its many theaters, libraries, museums, and universities were any indication.

Looking around the city, I was able to gain more insight into the citizens of Theed, and, by extension, the natives of Naboo, since architecture provided numerous clues into the hearts and minds of those who had constructed the buildings, and those whom the edifices had been erected to accommodate. The classic style that abounded attested to the fact that the beings who resided in Theed, and, most likely, on Naboo as a whole, were enamored of the glories of the past, and strove to recreate them in the present through a passion for civic responsibility and democracy, as a throwback to an era when politicians had allegedly been noble and concerned for the public welfare.

Similarly, the flowering vines that crawled up many of the golden stone walls, the pink and scarlet blooms in wrought-iron boxes beneath almost every window, and the countless trickling fountains demonstrated their respect for living things, a belief common to pacific cultures, and the fact that domes and arches were prevalent, as the classical style dictated, rather than structures that were less challenging to defend reinforced that the Naboo were peaceful beings, who never anticipated, and, therefore, made little provision for war.

We had traveled about one block, before we saw a droid patrol marching down the road toward us, or, at least, Qui-Gon and I did, at any rate. On the other hand, Jar Jar obviously had noticed nothing menacing, for he continued down the street in his peculiar sloping gait until my Master and I each had grasped one of his upper arms and dragged him behind a marble statue of some supposedly illustrious political leader or other.

"What wesa doen here?" inquired the Gungan, wearing his typical expression of cheery bemusement.

"Hiding from those droids," my Master responded in a whisper. "Now, hush, or they'll discover us."

"If they detect us, they'll shoot us," I added empathetically, thinking that such a dire warning would incite the pathetic lifeform to heed Qui-Gon's instruction a little longer. It was worth a shot, at any rate, since I had nothing to lose, as long as Jar Jar didn't lapse into a hysterical fit at the prospect of our deaths, as such an occurrence would draw the attention of the droids. The second realization coursed through me only after the words had slipped out of my mouth, and the squad of droids stomped to within two meters of the statue we were concealing ourselves behind.

However, Jar Jar's survival instincts must have been miswired, just like his logic circuits had been, because, instead of clamping his massive mouth shut like any semi-sane organism would have, he shrieked like a youngling, his eyes popping in terror, "Meccaneks!"

Sending Jar Jar a reproving glance, my Master summoned up his Force connection, and rattled several cans and buckets that were in an alleyway diagonal to us, distracting the droids who had heard Jar Jar's exclamation, and who had started to move to investigate it, but who now hurried off to examine the noise in the alley, instead. While Qui-Gon created this diversion, I grabbed hold of the Gungan, and yanked him around the corner and onto a street to the right with one hand, while the other remained clutched over his mouth to stifle his protests at this coarse treatment.

Jar Jar and I had barely disappeared around the bend, when Qui-Gon joined us. When he arrived, I asked, "Where should we go, now, Master?"

"We should head over to the palace," he stated, after a moment's hesitation. "After all, the Federation cannot have occupied the city for too long, since the armies didn't reach the planet until recently, and even a peaceful city like Theed would have some police and security guards trained to fight, even if not on a battle scale, so they'll have put up some resistance. Therefore, Queen Amidala might still be there, albeit heavily guarded by Federation troops. If she's not there, we should be able to uncover some clue as to where the Trade Federation have taken her there."

"Yes, Master." I nodded, thinking that sounded like a fine strategy to me, and grateful for his guidance. He always seemed to know exactly what to do next on a mission, whereas I was never that confident in my decisions. I hoped that someday I would possess that same unperturbed assurance, but, if that day was ever going to come, it was still very distant.

As my brain made these observations, Jar Jar and I followed Qui-Gon through the city, toward its center plaza, where the palace was located. Fifteen minutes or so after our entering the metropolis, we emerged out on top of a balcony overlooking the central plaza of Theed, on the side facing the palace. Noting that this provided a perfect vantage of the palace, which would permit Qui-Gon and I to take inventory of the fortifications that the Trade Federation had installed around the Queen without the droids being aware of our presence, I drifted back against a pillar, blending into the wall as I had been taught at the Temple many years ago, as Qui-Gon ducked behind another pillar.

When I saw that Jar Jar was watching this with an utterly bewildered expression etched upon his every witless feature, I emitted a faint, impatient tut, and shoved the vexing Gungan behind the pillar next to me before the Federation droids could spy him, ruining our cover, deciding that there was nothing more annoying than traveling with a pathetic lifeform. After all, fruit would start defying the established laws of physics and soar upward into the air after being cut from its tree limbs before Jar Jar developed a rational thought, and if there is one thing I can't suffer it is an idiot. For me, it was a source of much depression and anxiety that most of the galactic population was really quite dumb.

We had been watching the palace for perhaps two or three minutes, however, when something unexpected, but fortuitous happened. A congregation of humans, guarded by a squadron of battle droids, was marched out of the arched entrance of the palace, down the elegant crimson stone stairwell, onto the plaza. Several of the prisoners were arrayed in the gray-and-scarlet uniforms of Naboo Royal guards, which I recognized from the holofiles provided by Jocasta Nu, and I identified another as Sio Bibble, the Governor of Theed, and an important advisor of the Queen, because of his decades of experience in the realm of politics. In the very heart of the group, strode a young woman, not even out of the flower of adolescence, dressed in an elaborately feathered black costume. Even if her features hadn't been masked by royal painting lining every inch of her face, I would have been able to determine that she was Queen Amidala, because there was something proud and defiant in her bearing as she marched along, despite her status as a prisoner.

From this height, it was impossible to discern if she was just furious at the violation of Republic law and the injustice of what the Trade Federation had done to the people that she theoretically was supposed to serve and represent, or if she was just a typical haughty politician who constituted indignation as her inalienable right. Probably, it was the latter, I figured, as I saw Qui-Gon nod at me, and, together we leapt over the balcony wall, and onto the ground of the plaza.

As we landed, I heard Jar Jar moan at what he doubtlessly thought was a suicidal action, and several handmaidens in their orange-and-pink veda screamed in astonishment at our sudden appearance, because to most people, it would have seemed like we dropped out of the heavens like rain. Even the Queen's guard, trained in security matters, looked wrong-footed by our arrival, since even those trained in the martial arts often don't glance upwards unless a sound forces them to do so, and the droids themselves must have been stunned, for they hadn't fired upon us, yet.

"Are you Queen Amidala of the Naboo?" Qui-Gon directed the inquiry at the Queen, deliberately ignoring the droids.

"Who are you?" the girl demanded in kind, her face inscrutable beneath her massive amounts of ceremonial make-up.

Before Qui-Gon could respond, however, the droid commander recovered enough to bark at his troops, "Clear them away!"

Calmly, because I had combated far more lethal adversaries than these Federation battle droids on countless occasions, and had destroyed many droids on the battleship in orbit when we had first arrived to resolve the Nabbo crisis, I whipped out my lightsaber, while I heard my Master ignite his own weapon. We had withdrawn our lightsabers when the four droids that had shifted their blasters into firing position upon the commander's orders, and it was no challenge for us to sever them apart, and, an instant later, they were nothing but piles of twisted, useless scrap metal. The commander pivoted and attempted to flee, but Qui-Gon raised his hand, and, calling upon the Force, smashed it against a building wall. All in all, the confrontation had lasted perhaps a moment or two, but it had had been an action-packed couple of minutes, full of parrying, knocking askew guns, and slicing through alloy.

"Yousa bombad!" Jar Jar remarked, his awed tone implying that final adjective functioned as some sort of compliment among the Gungans, his eyes wider than I had ever witnessed them, as he goggled at Qui-Gon and me. However, he was hardly alone in his amazement, for the Naboo were gazing at us in the startled fashion sentients invariably do when they learn that Jedi know how to use lightsabers, meaning that they aren't there purely for diplomatic pressure, or as a stylish accessory.

"Your Highness, we are the ambassadors for the Supreme Chancellor," my Master announced, as we both bowed, and stowed away our weapons.

"Your negotiations seem to have failed, Ambassador," sniffed Sio Bibble, and I stiffened at his condescending manner, commenting to myself that his obviously had been no more successful if the Federation had conquered his city. Still, I didn't note as much aloud, because Jedi are never supposed to react to other beings in anger, since that is the path of the Sith, not the Jedi.

"The negotiations never took place," Qui-Gon educated him steadily, seemingly oblivious to the insult inherent in Sio Bibble's voice and words. Then, he riveted his eyes upon the Queen, and declared, "Your Highness, we must make contact with the Republic."

"They've knocked out all our communications," Captain Panaka, the captain of Queen Amidala's security force, informed my Master. However, if he had anticipated that Qui-Gon would be alarmed at this update, he was to be disappointed, because, naturally, this was no surprise to either Qui-Gon or me, as only an idiot would allow communications to remain intact on a planet he or she was about to invade, and the Neimoidians were infamous for their cowardice, not their stupidity. In fact, the dastardliness of the Neimoidians appeared to enhance their shrewdness, because they were focused solely on their own profit and survival, which would ensure that they disrupted the communications on Naboo before they crunched the full brunt of their military boot on the unlucky planet, since they would be terrified of external intervention, otherwise.

"Do you have transport?" Qui-Gon inquired, clearly planning to convey the Queen and her entourage to Coruscant, where she could petition the Senate for redress of the Federation's violation of the Republic Constitution.

"In the main hangar." Captain Panaka bobbed his head in confirmation, and led us down an alleyway, through the backstreets to an undefended service door in the rear of the main hangar. We were able to sneak inside without any problems, and, as crept through the corridors, we encountered no droids, which was a severe lapse on the part of the Trade Federation, as they should have stationed more droids at a place where people could have easy access to outer space, assuming they could maneuver around the blockade, of course.

However, when we reached the main hangar bay, and peered inside cautiously to gain reconnaissance on our enemy, we had the unpleasant revelation that the chamber was loaded up with battle droids, compensating for the empty hallways, which were probably tended to lure anyone who snuck inside into a false sense of security.

"There are too many of them," murmured Captain Panaka, who must have forgotten our display of Jedi warrior prowess already. Granted, a normal group of humans of our size would have been foolhardy to plunge into a skirmish with a battalion of droids, but having Qui-Gon and I on the side of the Naboo tipped the scales in their favor. After all, Jedi aren't merely human. We're unique, because we've been reared since infancy to be so.

"They won't be a problem," Qui-Gon reassured him. Although Captain Panaka's expression was skeptical, as if he doubted that we could disable so many of our foes, he not contradict my Master as he went on, "Your Highness, under the circumstances, I suggest you come to Coruscant with us."

"Thank you, Ambassador, but my place is here," refused Queen Amidala, her voice polite, but firm.

Qui-Gon started to nod his acceptance of her decision, but then shook his head, and warned her, "They will kill you if you stay."

With an effort, I squashed my gasp of alarm at his assertion. I could discern from the look on his face that his statement had been born in the Force, had been spawned from a premonition granted him by his midichlorians.

Everyone else was equally, if not more, astounded, and most of them were not as adept at concealing their shock. A few handmaidens had gaping mouths that revealed more plainly than words how appalled they were by the notion of Queen Amidala's assassination, and many of the guards and Captain Panaka were gawking at my Master, as well.

"They wouldn't dare!" gasped a scandalized Sio Bibble, who was the first of the Naboo to recover his wits after Qui-Gon's astonishing pronouncement.

Before Qui-Gon could counter this, however, Captain Panaka affirmed, his tone laced with bitterness toward the Federation, "They need her to sign a treaty to make this invasion of theirs legal. They can't afford to kill her."

However, my Master ignored both of these men, and centered his attention on the Queen, who would make the ultimate determination on whether she would depart with us or not, and reasoned, "The situation here is not what it seems, Your Highness. There is no logic to the Federation's move here."

I supposed he was correct in this assessment, because, after all, Naboo was a tiny world with a relatively sparse population, so the Trade Federation wouldn't be foolish enough to risk having their trade franchise revoked, on the off-chance that the Senate decided to defeat the bureaucracy that usually crippled it and elected to take immediate action to censor the Trade Federation, unless there was another unseen motive for their behavior. Well, that lent credibility to my conviction that there was a clandestine person somewhere far away that was manipulating all of this, didn't it?

As these thoughts raced through my mind, Qui-Gon concluded, "My feelings tell me that they will destroy you."

I watched as Governor Bibble scrutinized my Master for a long moment, and then, supported him. "Please, Your Highness, reconsider," he implored, facing the Queen, instead of Qui-Gon now. "Our only hope is for the Senate to side with us. Senator Palpatine will need your help."

"No," argued Captain Panaka vehemently. "Getting past their blockade is impossible, Your Highness. The danger is too great."

As I noted mentally that this man was the embodiment of pragmatism, I studied Queen Amidala's face. While she gazed at her debating advisors, her expression was challenging to read, owing to her face paints, but I could sense her indecision rippling from her in waves like those in a pond of tranquil water after a pebble is tossed into it, even if the Living Force was hardly my forte.

In the end, it transpired that she was incapable or determining her next course of action by herself, for she whirled about to regard her handmaidens somberly. "Either choice presents a great danger― to us all."

One of the teenaged girls, with glistening coils of brown hair, and soft eyes the same hue as stimcaf under her pink veda hood stepped forward, and offered her mistress an almost imperceptible nod, establishing firmly, "We are brave, Your Highness."

"If you are to leave, Your Highness, it must be now," Qui-Gon contributed, as I noted, intrigued, that the bold handmaiden's words had terminated the vacillation of the Queen. Clearly, the brown-haired handmaiden was a wealthy young lady, and possibly one with blackmail upon Queen Amidala.

Anyway, whatever her hold over the monarch was, she was the real power behind the throne, with Amidala serving as the scapegoat she could display to the populace if the citizens of the planet got too vexed with the mismanagement of their world. Well, my Master and I weren't her to fix Naboo's inner corruption, so the handmaiden's influence did not matter much, as long as she could always be convinced to act in a fashion that preserved the Queen's safety. In the future, then, while we appeared to appeal to the Queen, we must really appeal to this brunette. It was that simple― and that complicated.

"Then, I will plead our case before the Senate," ruled Queen Amidala, as if she had reached this conclusion for herself, without the intervention of the handmaiden who had so much sway over her mistress that she didn't even have to curtsy before addressing her.

After that, the Naboo quickly determined who would travel to Coruscant, and who would remain on Naboo, and I did not go into cardiac arrest when I saw that the outspoken handmaiden was selected to accompany her queen. Several royal sentries and Captain Panaka also would come with the Queen's party, while Sio Bibble and two handmaidens would stay on Naboo, serving the people as best they could, or so they claimed. I figured that if that were true, stranger things may have happened, but not many. After all, nobody really goes into politics if they are concerned about the welfare of the general populace― they work for a non-profit charity organization, instead.

Finally, everything was settled, and Qui-Gon nodded for me to open one of the double doors into the main hangar bay, as he swung the other open. We all strode through the newly opened doors, with my Master and me in the lead, and the Queen, her handmaidens, her guards, and Jar Jar, who had been mercifully silent for awhile now, on our heels.

Even in the main hangar bay, I noticed that the Naboo emphasis on beauty was evident, for the warm golden stone of the wall contrasted well against the dark metal of the fueling cables that climbed up them like vines. A row of sleek N-1 starfighters rested in their docks along one wall, while the center of the hangar was occupied by a silver J-type long range spacecraft, which I presumed was the Queen's Royal Transport…and by a massive contingency of battle droids. More of them encircled a cluster of men and women sitting with their arms wrapped on top of their heads in the far corner.

"We need to free those pilots," commented Captain Panaka, nodding at the prisoners, and I realized that he was probably right, because an actual pilot might be preferable to even a Jedi in breaking through the blockade. Besides, leaving a group of people imprisoned like this when it was within easy reach to rescue them without harming the primary mission, would have been a violation of the Jedi Code, which was the thing that meant the most to me in the galaxy. Without the Jedi, I was nothing, and the Code was the foundation of a Jedi's life, even one as unorthodox as Qui-Gon's, who essentially differed in how he interpreted it.

"I'll take care of that," I promised the captain of security, gesturing for him to lower his blaster. Honestly, for someone who had been so realistic mere moments ago, it had been surprisingly impulsive of him to believe that he could destroy so many droids with just his gun. With a lightsaber, it was another matter entirely, of course.

A lightsaber was not just a weapon; it was part of a Jedi's body. With it, a Jedi doesn't fight at the speed of thought, because that is much too slow, he or she fought in the Force, acting on unconscious impulses flowing into him or her through it. A Jedi in combat had more in common with a dancer than a warrior, I sometimes believed.

As Qui-Gon conversed with the droids preventing access to the Queen's ship, I crossed the hangar briskly, but, even so, he had already started mowing down the droids by the time I had reached the far end of the hangar. When I finally arrived there, I launched myself at the droids, and plowed into them determinedly.

I dived, and came up underneath the first droid, bisecting it. Then, I deflected fire from a second, so that it damaged the control panel, rendering it inoperable. A third one was destroyed when I pivoted, and kicked it onto the hard, uncompromising floor.

"Run!" I shouted at the pilots I was aiming to liberate, as I continued to slay droids, realizing that the thinning number of my adversaries increased the odds that I would unintentionally wound an innocent that I was striving to protect, an irony that I didn't desire to become a reality. They stared at me in awe as I chopped down droids, blocking bolts away from the pilots if I could help it, and avoiding dispatching droids if they were too close to one of the people I was attempting to rescue, and, then, they recalled where they were, and followed my directive, charging through the hangar.

As I cut down the last of the droids, I watched the progress of the pilots as they reached the area by the Queen's transport where Qui-Gon was engaged in a struggle against the droids assigned defend the ship. Unfortunately, almost all of those I had freed were killed in the barrage of fire, but one male was able to dart onto the ship.

He had just boarded when I destroyed the final droid, and dashed toward the transport, as well. I had barely entered the ship when Qui-Gon climbed on board, with the Queen, her handmaidens, and her guards following not long after.

When Qui-Gon and I joined him and Captain Panaka in the cockpit, the pilot, who introduced himself as Ric Olie, who had been hunched forward, his weathered face coated with sweat, but his hands steady on the controls, tilted his head slightly to eye us. "Thanks," he commented. "You were a real help back there, both of you. I suppose it's too late for me to learn how to use one of those lightsaber things."

"Yes, it is," chuckled my Master, not bothering to add that a lightsaber would only be a little better than a vibrosword in the hands of someone not trained in the ways of the Froce. After all, it was a communion with the Force that forged the lightsaber into such a lethal weapon. "By the way, you'd better save your thanks until we've dealt with the blockade."

Remembering the size of the navy I had witnessed when I had first arrived in the Naboo system, I decided that he was right. Any celebration of victory at this juncture would be premature, since there was still a fair chance that we would be shot down by the Trade Federation battleships.

"Copy that," smiled Ric Olie. "So, what do we do about those big boys? Our communications are still jammed."

"We're past the point of negotiating with the Trade Federation, anyhow," responded Qui-Gon, "and, given the lack of a weapons system on this vessel, I'd guess that you're best course of action would be evasion, but you're the pilot, not me."

As Ric Olie bobbed his head in acknowledgement, Qui-Gon focused on me. "Obi-Wan," he ordered, "make sure everyone is settled safely in their place."

His eyes strayed to Jar Jar, who had trailed us into the cockpit, and who was snaking out a hand to plug something into a datapad. Sighing, as I thought that I wasn't a babysitter, and that I just pretended to be one on the Holonet, I snatched the Gungan's upper arm, and propelled him forcibly out of the cockpit, and into the corridor beyond.

Paying no heed to Jar Jar's protests, which amounted to mutters of "Hooow Wude" repeated ad nauseum, because the pathetic lifeform possessed neither a vocabulary nor an imagination, in addition to his mangled linguistic capabilities, I steered him down the hallway, searching all the while for somewhere―anywhere― to stash this bothersome creature, although I was really hoping to discover somewhere that didn't have a found department, so that we'd never have to worry about encountering the pesky Gungan again.

Sadly, that wasn't to be, however, and I settled for shoving him in with the astromech droids, thinking that there was minimal damage he could inflict upon these hardy contraptions, and that he wouldn't be too much of a plague upon inanimate objects.

"Stay here," I commanded, gazing at him sternly, "and keep out of trouble."

Without waiting for a response from the hurt-looking creature, I turned away, and locked the latch behind me, noting wryly to myself that I should have added an instruction for him to solve the conundrum of the Theory of Unknowable Reality, or, that failing to compose an opera, while I was issuing impossible directives to that pathetic lifeform. Or, for that matter, I could not have wasted my breath, and not said anything to the ungainly Gungan, at all.

After ensuring that the Queen and her handmaidens were, indeed, secure in her quarters with her guards to protect them, I returned to the cockpit. I was about halfway there, when I felt the vessel jolt beneath my feet. Great, I thought, lengthening my stride reflexively, we are already under fire from the blockade. Well, there are some things, like being attacked by an enemy navy, which you really wouldn't want to wait for, after all.

As I walked into the control area, the ship jerked again, and alarms blared, something that, in my experience, is never an auspicious omen. Apparently, Ric Olie harbored like sentiments, for he suggested to Captain Panaka, "We should abort, sir. Our deflector shields can't withstand this."

"Stay on course!" snarled Captain Panaka, his black eyes blazing, as I hoped that our pilot was wrong, because, like Panaka, I was aware that we had to reach Coruscant with Queen Amidala if we wanted to rescue Naboo before the Trade Federation turned it into a skeleton, metaphorically speaking.

Ric Olie complied with Captain Panaka's order, and the rotund ball-within-a-circle battleships expanded rapidly outside the viewport. To me, there seemed to be twice as many of them as I had spotted when I had arrived aboard the viceroy's vessel. Of course, I realized with a mental smirk at my own folly, it always appeared as if there are more of something if they are firing at you.

This observation had just passed through my head when the transport rocked as yet another bolt from a Trade Federation warship exploded against the deflector shields.

"Do you have a cloaking device?" Qui-Gon demanded of Captain Panaka, as the head of security straightened himself after the ship's abrupt jerk.

"No, this is not a warship," answered the captain grimly. "We have no weapons, because we're a nonviolent people."

As I listened to his sober words, I thought again that the Trade Federation had attacked Naboo because it was defenseless, without an organized army or navy, and was insignificant in the Galactic Republic as a whole, which meant that its pleas for justice were likely to go unheard and unheeded until it was too late to save the world.

Throughout my years as a Padawan, I had been exposed to savage civil and interplanetary warfare, and I had witnessed hundreds of things that I wished I hadn't, yet this Naboo affair was different. I hadn't seen much gore on this mission, and, somehow, that made the Federation's actions even more atrocious, in my opinion, because it reinforced how helpless the Naboo had been.

Here had been a civilization founded upon notions of peace, beauty, and a respect for all life, and that had not involved itself in a war since the fight between the colonists and the Gungans. Yet, in the end, their pacific nature had not protected them from the ravages of violence, but rather made them more vulnerable. If you didn't bring war upon yourself, it was apparently to be released upon you, if Naboo was any example.

It was an interesting scrap of data that most cultures I have encountered or read about have a fable explaining how evil entered the universe, and many propose that the original fault that led to suffering in the galaxy was pride, curiosity, or greed. All of these beliefs had some degree of veracity in them, of course, but I thought, then, that the truth was even simpler: Every sentient species capable complex thought suffered because they couldn't see something that was pretty without wanting to own or destroy it― to conquer it, and force it into submission of some type. That was how it had been in the past, and in the present, which was why the Federation was here at all, and so it would be in the future.

Almost as if to punctuate my thoughts, the ship jolted more severely than it ever had previously, and I knew with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that something had managed to travel through our deflector shields.

"The shields generator has been hit!" Ric Olie confirmed my suspicions, as a viewscreen lit up, displaying astromech repair droids popping out of an air lock onto the battered surface of the ship. "I hope that they can fix it," he muttered, his face taut, despite its wrinkles.

His words must have tempted fate, though, because a pair of Trade Federation fighters swept by a second after that, firing upon the repair droids. Unluckily, one astromech, and then another exploded. Frowning, I checked the read-out, and was not consoled by the statistics that greeted me, because I learned that every repair droid on board was out there, so we had no spares left.

"We're losing droids fast," I muttered, my forehead furrowing as I established aloud my inner fear without being fully aware of it, because I was engrossed in my own thoughts.

"We won't make it," Olie predicted morbidly, increasing my confidence that we would all not only survive this ordeal, but emerge from it without a scratch to show for it. "The shields are gone."

Another droid went up in sparks, as he made this declaration. Now, the viewscreen showed only one astromech left: a small, blue-domed unit. It labored steadily, reconnecting wires despite renewed bombardment from the fighters.

Laser bolts whizzed around the tiny astromech, and several shot missed by barely a hair's breadth. Then, suddenly, I saw a dazzling spray of sparks, and I thought for a horrible second that we had lost our last droid, something that would make Olie's dire prediction a fact in record time. However, when the viewscreen cleared, I recognized that it showed the blue unit rolling back toward the air lock, and I released the breath I hadn't even been aware that I was bottling up in a relieved gust.

"Power is back!" Ric Olie whooped. "That little droid did it! The deflector shields are up at maximum." And just in time, I amended to myself, for our vessel was practically on top of the nearest battleship. In fact, if we had been any closer, we would have been able to scrape paint off its hull.

For the next few minutes, the firing was intense, but, fortunately, no more shots penetrated the shields.

"That's the worst of it," Captain Panaka observed, as the warships finally shrank behind us.

"Maybe not," countered Ric Olie, jabbing a finger at the read-outs before him. "The hyperdrive is leaking, and there is not enough power to get us to Coruscant."

"Then, we'll have to land somewhere to refuel and repair the ship," my Master informed him placidly, but I was already ahead of him, for, as soon as Ric Olie had mentioned the hyperdrive troubles, I had drawn up a star chart on a monitor, and begun searching for an appropriate planet to repair and refuel upon.

"Here, Master," I announced after a moment's examination of the relatively close planets, "Tatooine. It's small, out of the way, and the Trade Federation has no presence there."

"How can you be so sure?" pressed Captain Panaka dubiously.

"It's controlled by the Hutts," Qui-Gon explained before I could reply, his tone vague as he contemplated the screen over my shoulder, something that disconcerted me when done by anyone else.

"The Hutts?" stuttered Captain Panaka, appalled by both the notion of taking his queen to a world governed by these vulgar and repulsive vagabonds and by my Master's casual method of imparting this revelation. "You can't take Her Royal Highness there! If they discovered her―"

"They would treat her no differently then the Trade Federation would," interjected Qui-Gon, pivoting away from the viewscreen to gaze at the Captain seriously, instead. "Except that the Hutts aren't looking for her, which gives us the advantage."

As he voiced aloud my thoughts when I had suggested Tatooine, the captain emitted a deep, exasperated sigh, and I stifled a grin. Yes, I had been on the receiving end of my Master's relentless logic often enough to sympathize when the other perspective was valid, but this time, we truly had no choice, if we desired to remain out of the hands of the Trade Federation long enough to reach Coruscant, which we did, so we'd have to visit the desert world of Tatooine. That was all there was to it. Hopefully, it would be a short stay, because the sooner this whole crisis was resolved, the better, because already this mission had turned out to be far more than I had initially envisioned it would be.

I


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Happy New Year to all Jewish people. You gave me two wonderful days off so I could write this, so I hope you like it. (I'm finally feeling better. Hurrah!)

I was going to write the whole Tatooine experience in one chapter, but this got to be long enough that I figured that it could stand on its own.

No Right Answers

Despite Captain Panaka's disapproval, the Queen agreed to stop for repairs on Tatooine, deciding to trust Qui-Gon's instincts in this. At Qui-Gon's direction, Ric Olie landed the ship on the outskirts of a spaceport that, while heavily populated by Tatooine standards, wasn't really sizeable enough to be constituted as a city in my humble opinion.

Since Mos Espa was no Coronet in terms of either the numbers or the gentility of its inhabitants, it was just as well that we didn't utilize any of the main city docking bays. After all, a sleek, elegant cruiser like the Queen's would attract considerable attention among the crooks and various other scum that had washed down society's gutter until it had accumulated on this backwater planet in the hind end of nowhere. In our present condition, we really couldn't afford to garner the interest of the colorful locals, because we now needed to hide ourselves as much as most of the denizens of this desert world did. Actually, we probably had to conceal ourselves better since being wanted by the Trade Federation was worse than being wanted by the law, because police forces generally didn't stoop so low as employing bounty hunters as the unscrupulous Neimoidians who controlled the Federation did. It wasn't that Qui-Gon and I were afraid of fighting a bounty hunter if necessary, but only an idiot welcomed confrontations with the vilest warriors in the galaxy, and Jedi are many things but we are not fools. Therefore, if we could evade bounty hunters, we'd strive to do so.

Besides from reducing significantly the odds that a local would notice our incongruously expensive starship, landing on the outskirts was a brilliant decision since, as it was, the hyperdrive generator failed completely as Ric Olie touched down on the desert sand, landing smoothly under the circumstances. If we had pushed onto the city, it probably would have exploded over Mos Espa, which would have earned us more than a little attention from curious locals. Speaking of explosions, we were exceptionally lucky that the hyperdrive had not ceased working on us in between star systems. That would have meant that we would have been trapped in hyperspace for eternity with Jar Jar, and there couldn't be many fates more horrible than that.

As soon as the pilot had performed his admirably painless landing, Qui-Gon whirled around to address Captain Panaka and me while Ric Olie shoved his way out of the cockpit, mumbling something about checking the ship's damage.

"Once we've determined what replacement parts we'll need, I'll head out to Mos Espa and purchase them. Obi-Wan can stay here with Captain Panaka and the rest of his security to provide extra protection for the Queen," stated Qui-Gon.

I had expected this because it certainly made sense for one of us to remain behind to defend Queen Amidala should the situation require it, but unfortunately that meant that I'd be stuck in the middle of a desert with Jar Jar. Wonderful. The only way this could be improved upon would be if I were locked in a jail on Nar Shadda with him as my cell mate.

Oddly enough, the idea of a prison made me imagine that there might be an escape from my current dilemma, and now that I thought about it, I could perceive a use for the hapless Gungan, which meant that the end of the universe was near. If I could just convince Qui-Gon that I was right, then Jar Jar would be out of my hair for awhile, and it was only fair since my Master had been the one to drag the Gungan along in the first place. He deserved to have to deal with the pathetic lifeform's antics, not me.

"Master, will you be travelling alone?" I inquired.

"I'll take the Artoo with me so it can show dealers a hologram of our ship and the parts we'll need," replied Qui-Gon.

"Why don't you have Jar Jar accompany you?" I proposed, focusing on not sounding too eager, because I didn't want him to insist on having the Gungan stay here just to teach me a lesson in empathy for pathetic lifeforms. "Mos Espa is a multispecies spaceport, so he won't attract much notice, and two beings traveling together seem less suspicious than just one. Besides, Jar Jar will ensure that you slip under everybody's radar because you couldn't find anyone who gives off an impression of being less dangerous."

That final statement was perfectly factual, which proved that appearances were deceptive. After all, Jar Jar was a menace to both himself and others owing to his benighted clumsiness and stupidity. He was the sort of being who would blow up an entire docking bay because he was smoking hookah too close to the oil tanks and then would be utterly astonished by the resultant conflagration. At first glance, though, he was too pathetic to register as a threat, and most organisms only glance at strangers once. Therefore, he would serve his function if he deflated initial suspicions and deflected curious stares.

To my relief, my voice and face must have been dispassionate enough to not gain my Master's attention, for he frowned pensively for a moment. Then, he bobbed his head in agreement. "You have a point, Padawan. I shall take Jar Jar with me."

"I'll inform Her Highness of our plan and attain her approval," announced Captain Panaka, pivoting on his heel and exiting the cockpit briskly to seek an audience with Queen Amidala in her chambers.

"Obi-Wan, please help Ric Olie figure out what replacements are needed and make sure that they are recorded in the Artoo unit," Qui-Gon commanded, obviously unconcerned with whether the Queen would assent to our plan. "I've got to find Jar Jar and tell him to prepare for our departure."

"Yes, Master," I responded, thinking that I had definitely got the better end of the deal. "I'll see to it at once."

Together, we left the cockpit and then we parted, with Qui-Gon searching for the aggravating Gungan wherever chaos was brewing, and me descending into the dim underbelly of the ship to the drive compartment.

When I arrived, I discovered that Ric Olie was already kneeling inside the dark and cramped compartment, fixing what he could without the new components. R2-D2 was hovering just outside the compartment door, emitting eerily human whirs as he recorded the parts we would need to repair our cruiser as Olie dictated them to him.

"Would you care for some assistance?" I offered the pilot, already preparing to crawl into the drive compartment after him.

"Perhaps a tad," grunted Ric Olie, and I went into the blackness after him. "I've already mended what can be done at the moment and given the details of the news parts we require to that resilient little astromech."

Implying that it comprehended some Basic, the droid tootled something that sounded disconcertingly reminiscent of a "thank-you," as I thought that Ric Olie reminded me uncannily of my buddy Garen. He possessed that same intuitive grasp of ships and he doubtlessly had done a far more competent job on the repairs than I could have, Temple training or no. I love intelligent beings because they make my already complicated life just a little easier, I observed mentally, as Olie resumed:

"However, I could use some help dragging the hyperdrive out of here, since there's no hope of repairing it. It's as finished as last week's stew. Even the Hutt Aviation Authorty wouldn't attempt to make this dirt-crate flyable again, and that's saying something."

Glancing at the hyperdrive, I saw that his analysis was accurate. The hyperdrive was leaking enough oil to transform a desert world only slightly smaller than Tatooine into an ocean one. It was also so battered that anybody studying it objectively would have been compelled to conclude that it had seen better days―or, even, judging by its bruised exterior, better centuries.

"Even the Manikons that scavenge in the junk heaps of the underlevels of Coruscant wouldn't be interested in this bucket of bolts," I remarked, bobbing my head in fervent confirmation of his grim assessment. I grabbed one side of the useless hyperdrive, and, once Olie had counted to three, pulled it up, and began to back out of the compartment while the pilot lifted the other half of the hyperdrive.

The hyperdrive was large and weighed at least as much as an adult male Wookie, making it challenging to carry. As such, we could only lug it along for a few seconds at a time before we had to lower it to the alloy floor again, so that we could rest for a brief interval. Finally, after one of the longest moments in my life, Ric Olie and I managed to remove the vexing hyperdrive from the drive compartment, just when I was starting to think I would surrender to the temptation of employing the Force to assist us, even if my Master would have disapproved of such an action.

"Thanks," panted Ric Olie as we dropped the hyerpdrive onto the floor, relieved to set it down at last. "Time was, I could have carried it by myself, but I'm too old for that now."

"I didn't do much," I pointed out, impressed that he could have picked this up by himself in his youth. "You're the one who did all the work."

"So I did," acknowledged Ric Olie gruffly, shrugging. "Well, I'm going to figure out how to draw up enough power so that we can have enough water to use the refresher on this ship. I never needed a shower more than I do now."

As he pushed himself to his feet, I thought that he was probably right. His whole body was soaked in oil and grime so much that it was hard to identify him as a human instead of some peculiar humanoid alien species. Looking down at my hands, I noticed that they were coated in an obsidian inky substance, as were the knees of my pants, after my short encounter with the hyperdrive. Clearly, a trip to the refresher wouldn't be amiss for me, either.

"Good luck with that," I shouted after him as he departed to return to the cockpit and solve our power problem. If he hadn't figured out how to do so by then, I'd aid him once Qui-Gon had set off, I determined as my Master entered the room, now attired in the plain garb of a moisture farmer.

"What have you found?" he asked, striding over to stand beside me.

"The hyperdrive is shot, Master," I informed him. "The Artoo has the full list of the supplies we need."

A reflective expression glazed his eyes, and he mumbled, "That complicates matters." The distantness disappeared from his features, but his tone remained low as he instructed, "Don't let them send any transmissions while I'm away. Be wary. I sense a disturbance in the Force."

As I listened to him, I had to stifle a twinge of impatience that lanced through me. Sometimes I believed that my Master forgot that I wasn't thirteen years old anymore. Honestly, hadn't I been the one who had sensed a disturbance in the Force at the outset of this mission only to have him dismiss my concerns?

Expressing such sentiments verbally wasn't proper etiquette for a Padawan, though, so in the end, I merely answered, "I feel it also, Master. I will be careful."

I was nothing if not cautious, after all, and I'd hate to damage my reputation since I only had one.

Satisfied that I would abide by his orders as usual, Qui-Gon nodded and left with Artoo and Jar Jar. Once he had departed, I climbed back up into the main body of the vessel and learned that Ric Olie had managed to harness enough power to allow us to utilize the spaceship's refresher. That was great because after Ric Olie was finished cleaning himself up, I could take a much needed shower.

About an hour and a half later, when I had tidied myself up in the refresher and had been taking advantage of the lull in action to meditate, I felt my comlink buzz. Although I suspected that it would be Qui-Gon, I checked the incoming frequency anyhow. As I had assumed, it was my Master who was contacting me.

"Yes, Master," I said into the comlink, accepting the transmission.

"Obi-Wan, we found a dealer who sells the parts we require, but from his comments he's the only one on the market who has them, and he won't accept Republic credits because, apparently, they can't buy anything out here," he updated me as soon as I answered, not wasting time with pleasantries. "We need items to trade with him. Are you sure there isn't anything of value left on board?"

My forehead furrowed, I glanced around the main lounge of the ship, where I had been meditating. There was nothing of any worth here because the holocam system was grounded to the floor of the vessel, and the plush cushions lining the wall seats were all firmly affixed to the ship.

However, in the storage levels of the ship there were canisters of food and other supplies we wouldn't require for our journey to Coruscant, and in the Queen's chambers there was her wardrobe and her gems…Although I doubted that Queen Amidala would be ecstatic to hear that Qui-Gon had pawned her belongings, and, anyway, there weren't enough items to sell to afford all the components we had to purchase.

"There are a few containers of supplies, the Queen's wardrobe, and some jewelry maybe," I educated him after a moment's pause, "but not enough for you to barter with― not in the amounts you're talking about."

"All right." Even through a comlink, I could hear my Master's frown. Our bond was deep enough that we didn't need to see each other's faces to guess one another's emotions and to surmise how those feelings would manifest themselves on the other person's features. It wasn't mind reading as much as it was tone analysis, I decided. "Another solution will present itself. I'll check back."

After he established as much, he cut the communication in his typically abrupt fashion. I returned my comlink to the supply kit on my belt and rose. I thought that it was probable that my Master would return to the cruiser to develop a plan on how to proceed away from the possibility of detection in Mos Espa, and I figured that I would stand outside to greet him and the others when they arrived.

Spotting my movements, Captain Panaka, who had been chatting somberly in the far corner with Ric Olie and the Naboo security officer who wasn't on duty guarding the Queen, got to his feet as well and followed me down the landing ramp.

Tatooine assaulted us the instant we disembarked. The twin suns that were now starting to slip into a crimson-tangerine hue as they set scorched us, and the dry air threatened to choke us while the sand seeped through pores in our boots. This world was definitely no Belazura. In fact, I would gladly have dived into another swamp again if I could just get away from this sweltering environment. After all, murky water was better than none.

"You were in contact with the other Jedi, weren't you?" demanded Captain Panaka, his hard dark eyes not focusing upon me, but rather sweeping across the stark desert landscape. Like me, he was searching for any indication of a menace, since the environment was far from the most perilous factor on Tatooine, because vicious tribes of an indigenous species inhabited the desert wherever the Hutts didn't dominate the larger settlements.

"Yes," I responded vaguely, noticing that several dunes in the distance that had accumulated as a result of centuries of sand storms depositing minuscule rock segments in the same locations due to the direction of the prevailing winds was stirring.

"Did he say that he would be back soon?" the captain pressed, as the winds that had passed over the dunes blew toward us, sending up what looked like minor tornadoes as they progressed through the arid land.

"No, but he told me he would check back in soon," I explained, my cloak flapping behind me as the wind started to bluster around us, not yet carrying the swarm of sand that could blind any human unlucky enough to be caught in the midst of it. We'd better return to the ship soon, I thought, but I want to make certain that Qui-Gon isn't trying to make his way back to the ship with Padme, Jar Jar, and Artoo before we seal it up. I didn't want them locked outside during a Tatooine sandstorm, because, if that happened to them, the winds of the storm would ensure that their knocking upon the transport would not be heard. "He couldn't acquire the parts we need, so he'll need to return to devise a scheme to attain them."

"I hope he gets them soon," observed Captain Panaka, picking up his voice to be heard over the strengthening wind. "I'll feel much better once Her Highness is safely on Coruscant. Then, she can convince the Senate to remove the Trade Federation from our world."

It was to be hoped for the sake of the Naboo that she would be able to accomplish this feat, but that hurdle could be crossed once the problem of acquiring the necessary parts was dealt with. After all, it was logical to resolve one crisis at a time in order to avoid panicking at the number of problems one was expected to solve, and, if we wanted to get the replacement components, Qui-Gon had to return soon…

"This storm will slow them down!" I shouted over the wind that was now whipping our clothing about us in circles. He was an astute man, so he would realize that when I stated as much, I was asserting that a delay in their return would hold up going to Coruscant. Actually, he was probably smart enough to have surmised as much by himself, but I determined that his statement deserved a response of some sort, because I had been impressed with the way in which he had surrounded the Queen with sentries all the time, suggesting that he was one of the few people in the galaxy that was competent at his job.

Like Captain Panaka, I wanted to leave this blasted planet as soon as possible, but it wasn't just because I wished for Queen Amidala to arrive on Coruscant where she would have the chance to convince the Senate to act against the Trade Federation. No, the Force was quivering with the same elusive sense of wrongness that had been plaguing me all mission, yet the unease in the Force was heightened on this world. Even when I meditated, I could feel it. In fact, the disquiet was more pronounced when I meditated, as all else was quiet, and I was compelled to center on just the disturbance in the Force, which became a crescendo in my mind. I was afraid that if we didn't depart Tatooine soon, I would become insane, but I didn't want to confide this in the captain. He wasn't Force-sensitive, so he couldn't comprehend. Describing the Force to an outsider created a discomfiting experience for both parties, and I saw no reason to do so at the present. It was enough that he knew that I was as anxious as he was to leave Tatooine.

"This looks pretty bad!" Captain Panaka hollered back. As sand started to dance around us, we both raised our hands to our eyes like visors, trying to prevent the sand from landing there and blinding us temporarily or forevermore. "We'd better seal the ship."

Reluctantly, I nodded after a moment's hesitation. He was right, after all, however much I loathed to admit it. Surely even my stubborn Master wouldn't attempt to make it across the desert to our ship through a sandstorm like this. He was immensely in sync with the currents of the Living Force and, therefore, would have enough respect for the natural aspects of Tatooine not to try it…Somehow, he would find somewhere to stay in Mos Espa until it was safe for him and his companions to return to the ship. There was no profit in waiting outside for him with a sandstorm virtually upon us.

As we turned to climb up the ramp, Captain Panaka's comlink beeped. When the captain answered, Ric Olie's clipped voice sounded through. "We're receiving a message from home."

"We'll be right there," Panaka assured him, and we both raced up the ramp, sealing it shut in our wake. The transmission had been received in the main lounge, and Ric Olie, all of the Naboo security, the Queen, and her remaining pair of handmaidens, Eritae and Rabe, were all clustered on the plush sofas, staring at a flickering hologram of Sio Bibble as Captain Panaka and I entered the room as unobtrusively as possible.

"The Trade Federation has cut off all our food supplies until you return…death toll rising, catastrophic…must bow to their wishes, Your Highness…" Sio Bibble's voice faded and returned, still garbled. "Please, I beg of you, tell us what to do! If you can hear me, Your Highness, you must contact me…"

The transmission winked out entirely on the Governor of Theed's desperate pleas, and a dreadful silence filled the chamber. The Naboo guards were all fingering their guns as though they could fire on a foe that was lightyears away, a notion that was utter folly, of course, but if it was so dumb, why was I stroking my lightsaber?

Meanwhile, the two handmaidens had tears sparkling in their eyes, and they didn't appear to be the affected ones politicians flooded their eyes with whenever they desired to convince the rabble that they were suffering along with the common people they theoretically represented and served. No, it seemed like these young women, who looked barely older than the fourteen-year-old Queen Amidala, really did care about what happened to their planet and its citizens, which made what the Trade Federation was doing all the worse. It was hard not to sympathize with these courageous, noble people even if Jedi were supposed to be unbiased.

I found it even more challenging to remain neutral when I glanced at the Queen. Although I couldn't discern her features clearly due to her regalia, I imagined that her face was paler than it typically was, and she was gazing, dazed, at the empty space the hologram had occupied seconds before, her usually impassive face troubled. Betraying her nerves even further, her hands fiddled in her lap where she must have folded them at the start of message.

Suddenly, I felt for this young lady. She was younger than I was, and she had the fate of a whole planet resting firmly in her hands. Granted, she had sought political office, but she could never have envisioned that the most powerful merchant guild in the galaxy would invade her planet and imprison her people. Nobody could have foreseen that, and now she had to deal with the situation as best as she could while she was in exile.

To my horror, she shifted her gaze to me, obviously seeking my guidance. If she only knew that I was just about as young and as inexperienced as her, she would not have asked for my advice, but since she had requested it, as a Jedi, I was honor-bound to offer her whatever assistance I could. Force knows, she could use all the help she could get, given her present situation.

Jumbled thoughts dashed about my head in a disjointed fashion. Qui-Gon had ordered me not to permit the Naboo to send any transmissions, and since the Queen had requested my input, I could ensure that my Master's commands were carried out. Since it was my obligation as a Padawan and because I had no better idea of my own, I informed the Queen, "It's a trick. Send no reply, Your Highness. Send no transmissions of any kind."

Striving to hide my uncertainty, because people don't like to learn that the Republic's great defenders are fallible beings with less than perfect instincts, I injected as much authority as I could into my voice, hoping that this would persuade the Queen to follow my direction. It did, because after a few seconds of eyeing me dubiously, Queen Amidala bobbed her head in acquiescence.

Once I was confident that Qui-Gon's orders would be adhered to, I pivoted and hurried out of the lounge, heading to the cockpit, where I could be alone with my tumultuous thoughts. As I slumped into the co-pilot's chair, I wondered if I had done the right thing. A Padawan was supposed to obey his or her Master as long as the situation did not change drastically, and mine hadn't. Besides, Qui-Gon was probably correct in this instance, anyhow.

Doubtlessly, the Trade Federation was trying to trick Queen Amidala into responding to a distress call from her people, so that they could have a fix upon her whereabouts. Once they knew where she was located, they could dispatch droids and bounty hunters to assassinate her, or drag her back to Naboo to sign the treaty, and the Senate would never hear her petition. On the off-chance that this wasn't the case, the Trade Federation was probably forcing Bibble to beg the Queen to return until she did so, harboring under the delusion that it would save her people, when in reality it would only hurt those she served, because if she returned to her home planet, the Trade Federation would arrest her and force her to sign their treaty. Either way, the message was a trick and ought not to be replied to, unless Queen Amidala wanted to stumble into a riko's den.

Yet, doubts still gnawed at me. What if it wasn't a trick? What if the message had been genuine?

Yes, the Queen wouldn't have been able to solve the problems of the Naboo from her current spot lightyears away, but hearing her voice and knowing that she cared about their suffering might be a source of comfort to the poor Naboo that were imprisoned in the Federation camps. Didn't the people deserve to feel the confidence that resulted from being aware that an elected official was devoting all her efforts to delivering them from their horrible position? If I were in such an awful position, wouldn't I want to be consoled by an authority figure I trusted if I was stupid enough to believe in politicians?

As uncertainty enveloped me, I bit my lip and noted wryly that I wasn't ready to be a Jedi, after all, because I wasn't prepared to make heartwrenching decisions like this, and I still depended upon my Master to determine what to do at times when there appeared to be no right answer and every choice seemed like the incorrect one.

Unconsciously, my fingers fished around in my pocket until they closed around the smooth stone Qui-Gon had given to me on my thirteenth birthday. For some reason, whenever I touched that rock, the Force flowed around me in soothing ripples. That stone always centered me, and sometimes I could even relax when I touched it, and that was a rare occurrence.

Qui-Gon had told me that he would check back, and he would do so, because my Master had never lied to me before. When he did, I would fill him in on the transmission. Just as he always did, he would know exactly how to proceed next, and there was no need for me to stress over a decision that I had already made. After all, as Yoda reasons, "Make a decision, make another, but rethink the last one, you cannot."

Now that I contemplated the matter, I was reasonably certain that I had behaved correctly, since a transmission could always be broadcast to Naboo if the situation warranted it, but it would be impossible to recall one that had already been sent. As the ancient adage went, it was better to be safe than sorry.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: Sorry, next chapter they'll leave Tatooine. For some reason, everything is taking longer than I thought, but I hope that you'll enjoy it anyway. Please let me know what you think as usual.

Deserted

I had been sitting, lost in contemplation, in the cockpit for perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes when my comlink beeped. Checking the incoming frequency, I saw that my Master was contacting me again. Excellent― I could fill him in about the transmission from Sio Bibble, and he would know how best to proceed like he always did.

"Yes, Master," I answered, accepting the communication. I would let him update me on anything that had occurred in Mos Espa before I informed him of the transmission from Naboo because his news was probably more significant than mine was.

"Padme, Jar Jar, Artoo, and I have taken refuge in the abode of a slave boy and his mother," Qui-Gon educated me, his voice cracking thanks to the sandstorm that was disrupting on-planet communications, "but I haven't devised a plan to attain the parts we require yet. How are things at the ship?"

Since he had asked, I explained about the disconcerting message from Naboo, striving to sound composed. After all, I was providing a progress report, not an analysis of my feelings. Yet, I must not have been capable of concealing my anxiety from him, because, as soon as I had finished describing the distressing transmission, he assured me softly, "You made the right choice, Obi-Wan."

At his words, I couldn't prevent myself from emitting a sigh of relief that I hoped he would pass over as one of the breaks in the communication that were punctuating our exchange as a result of the sandstorm. It was a comfort to hear that he believed I had acted appropriately, and that, if he had been in my position, he wouldn't have contacted the Naboo either. However, if our places had been switched, he would have been able to serve as a solace to the distraught Queen Amidala and her handmaidens as I wasn't.

"The Queen is very upset," I advised him, hoping that he would offer his not emotionally intelligent apprentice some crucial tips about consoling a grieving ruler.

"The transmission was bait to establish a trace, I'm certain of it," Qui-Gon declared, obviously misinterpreting my remark to mean that I thought the Queen should have responded to the pleas of her people.

"But what if it is true and the people are dying?" I inquired in a near whisper, voicing my greatest worry. Yes, I was aware that this was star systems away from being the most plausible explanation for the message, but I was afraid to dismiss the possibility entirely, since I had vowed to protect the civilians of the Republic, and I would be violating my oath if I permitted the Trade Federation to slaughter the Naboo and ignored their cries for salvation. If we were wrong, the guilt resulting from being responsible for their deaths would haunt me for a terribly long time.

"Either way, we're running out of time," sighed my Master, establishing aloud what I already knew. After all, he didn't have to remind me that every second we spent here allowed the Federation's talons to consolidate their lethal grip upon Naboo, and he didn't have to explain to me that every minute on Tatooine was a risk, because I could sense that plainly in the Force.

Before I could summon up any reply, however, he terminated the communication, and I was left gaping at my comlink in astonishment. What sort of reassuring comment was that? Of course we were short of time, but why did he feel compelled to hammer that point into my head when I was already fretting about the fate of the Naboo? How would reminding me that more of them could be perishing of illness or starvation even as we conversed be of any use?

Maybe he wanted me to concoct a scheme to acquire the replacement components we needed. Yes, even if he didn't expect me to, next time he contacted me, I would have a plan to attain the parts we required so that we would no longer be stranded in this cursed desert. Once we had gotten away from this place, we could rescue the Naboo before it was too late, and the beings we desired to save were murdered by the brutal domination tactics of the Trade Federation.

Anyway, devising a solution to our present plight would provide me with something besides meditating to accomplish while I aided the Naboo security in shielding Queen Amidala.

That night, after a scrumptious supper that consisted of gritty hawk-bat eggs, ninety-five percent fat shroom steaks, and evaporated bantha milk, because even royalty couldn't consume delicacies on board a starship without a chef, Queen Amidala, her two handmaidens, Captain Panaka, another security officer, and I all retired while a pair of sentries guarded the doors to the chamber where the Queen and her handmaidens slept.

We all went to our sleep coaches so early because one didn't have to be Force-sensitive to discern that difficult and exhausting times were soon to assail all of us. Therefore, it would be prudent to gain as much rest and energy from this respite as possible. Besides, there was not much in the manner of entertainment on this vessel unless one delighted in brooding upon all the things that could go awry while we were stranded upon this planet, and so sleep was starting to seem like an appealing vacation spot. At any rate, it was better than playing another round of sabaac in the lounge, trying not to mention the absence of Qui-Gon, the Queen's favorite handmaiden, who for some bizarre reason had insisted upon going with my Master, Jar Jar, and Artoo, and trying not to wonder aloud what would happen to the Naboo if the required replacement parts were not secured. Anything, even a life-or-death lightersaber battle would be preferable to the aforementioned strained scene.

Yet, that was not a Jedi sentiment, I chastised myself as I changed into my nightclothes in the sleeping quarters I shared with the other males aboard this spaceship. A true Jedi would prefer an awkward conversation to a fight where lives could be lost.

As I scolded myself, I crawled onto my sleep coach while Ric Olie, Captain Panaka, and the Naboo security guard slipped under their covers as well. When everyone was tucked into their blankets, Ric Olie clicked off the glow rods, and the room was instantly plunged into darkness.

Once the glow rods were extinguished, I couldn't fall asleep no matter how much I willed myself to do so. My mind was racing. Images of children with their ribs showing and their faces emaciated due to dreadful food shortages and pictures of men and women being executed by droid firing squads deluged my brain. When I breathed deeply in a soothing Jedi exercise I had been taught before my fifth birthday, I successfully managed to banish such torturous visions.

Yet, I was still unable to doze. Although I have traveled to both spiral arms of the galaxy, I have never become accustomed to sharing sleeping quarters with anyone except my Master. Whenever I room with somebody else I can scarcely rest. It's not the petty complaints that others normally moan about that bother me. I can ignore sleep babbling well enough, and snoring is no problem. It's the overflow of disorganized thoughts and emotions pouring out of others and into me through the Force that I cannot tolerate.

When people are asleep their thoughts and feelings seep from them far more than they do when they are awake. This is the case because everybody makes an effort to regulate their thoughts and feelings in a socially acceptable fashion when they are awake, but nobody cares enough to do the same when they are asleep. Therefore, sleeping beings emanate intense emotions and jumbled thoughts that reveal much.

In this case, I could feel the fear these humans felt for their fellow inhabitants of Naboo. I could sense their wish to leave this desert world as soon as possible. I could feel their hope that the Queen would be capable of convincing the Senate to act for the first time in even Master Yoda's memory, and their terror at what would befall their planet if she didn't succeed. I saw how they fretted about the wellbeing of their neighbors, friends, parents, brothers, and sisters.

My throat constricted so much that I could hardly breathe, because I could do nothing to ease the suffering of the beings I was sharing a room with, and I could nothing to assist the people on Naboo. What was the purpose of being a Jedi if all I could do was watch people in agony and do nothing to aid them?

Sometimes Qui-Gon accused me of not caring enough about the organisms we encountered on our journeys, but that wasn't fair. I think I cared too much. That was why I couldn't sleep now. This was why I didn't connect well with the Living Force. It gave me a headache, because it involved me in horrible situations of others that I couldn't resolve. With the Unifying Force, there is the balm of dispassion, of separation, of knowing that eventually everything will turn out for the best if the logical course of action is pursued, but with the Living Force, there is always pain and insensibility.

The Living Force created anguish because it formed attachments. I had become attached to the Naboo, and now they were hurting me. It was that simple. I needed to put some distance between us, I realized, shoving myself out of my sleep coach.

As I crossed over to the door, not grabbing a glow rod because its light would disturb the chamber's other occupants and I didn't require one to find my way about the vessel, I saw Captain Panaka stir and open his eyes. However, when he recognized that it was only me, he rolled over and went back to sleep, knowing that a Jedi Padawan was no threat to his Queen. While he returned to his dreams, I exited the room and proceeded down the corridor to the lounge, where I began to mediate on the cushioned seats lining the wall.

I had been meditating for perhaps ten minutes when I felt a presence creeping about the transport. My hand flew instinctively to my lightsaber as I examined the presence I felt in the Force. After a few seconds of probing, I determined that the presence was not a malevolent one, and that it was a familiar one― one that had been on board all day. As I removed my hand from my lightsaber, I heard the door to the lounge creak open, but, aware that whoever was there was no menace, I didn't open my eyes.

Whoever was there flicked on the lights if the increase in illumination beneath my eyelids was any indication. The lights must have revealed my presence for the first time, because there was a sharp intake of breath from the far side of the chamber. "Stars and galaxies, I didn't see you there! You gave me quite a fright, and now my heart is racing fit to burst!"

"I apologize," I replied sincerely, thinking that I had no desire to be feared by anyone who wasn't an enemy of the Republic, and that I had forgotten how most people don't notice a Jedi's presence in a dark room if he or she doesn't announce himself or herself. "I didn't mean to startle you."

As I established as much, I opened my eyes and saw the blonde handmaiden who I believed was named Eritae standing just inside the threshold of the lounge, clutching her sky blue veda bathrobe over her white shimmersilk nightgown in the galaxywide gesture human females adopted when they perceived themselves to be in a state of undress in the sight of a male. Despite her shock, she was quick to recover her poise, no doubt owing to her training in politics.

"Don't be sorry," she countered at once, offering me a grin that she had probably been instructed to give whenever she had to soothe strangers. "It's I who should be sorry for I was the one who interrupted your solitude, and I probably startled you more."

"Do be seated, if you'd like." I patted the cushion to the right of me, and she settled down delicately beside me as I continued, "Besides, you didn't alarm me, because I could sense you coming through the Force."

"You could sense my presence?" she echoed, her quintberry eyes widening.

"Well, not precisely your presence," I modified, feeling like I was detailing the marvels of the color violet to a blind person. How could someone who had never touched the Force be expected to comprehend the complexity of even its most basic facets? Fumbling for words, I faltered on, "I could feel an aura from you, though, meaning I could discern that you were a being I had come into contact with, and that you were not a danger. I don't know you well enough to have a precise fix on the ripples you personally create in the Force."

"I have ripples in the Force?" asked Eritae, who was obviously an inquisitive young lady, her forehead knitting as she examined this notion.

"Everyone does," I educated her, "and everybody has their own unique Force presence."

"Like fingerprints," she remarked.

"Yes, like fingerprints," I confirmed. Then, I inquired, "May I ask what you're doing up at this hour?"

"I'm cold, and I can't sleep," admitted Eritae, who, was indeed shivering in her bathrobe. How foolish I had been not to notice that. I had been conversing with her for about two minutes, and that much data and more should have been imprinted upon me, especially since there was nothing else of import that I had been focusing upon. When I saw her shuddering, I had the abrupt impulse to remove my cloak and offer it to her, but then my reason caught up with my heart. I was a young man, and she was a young woman, and such a gesture could easily be misconstrued, although any being with even a primary level education knew that Jedi were not to engage in romantic relationships with anyone inside or outside of our Order. Romantic entanglements brought a neko's den worth of problems with them because they created attachments that could interfere with a Jedi fulfilling his or her duty, and, besides, emotions had a horrible tendency of clouding one's judgment, meaning that oftentimes love had as dire consequences as hate. Feelings had a dreadful ability of blinding otherwise intelligent beings to the truth, and Jedi could not afford that handicap. "Burn it, I thought that deserts were blazing hot!"

"That's a common misconception," I corrected her, reciting by rote the lectures I had received on environmental science at the Jedi Temple, and wondering even as I began to expound upon the nature of deserts if it was futile. After all, many times I have assumed that I was speaking with a curious being who desired enlightenment upon a given subject only to discover that this, unfortunately, wasn't the case, and the organism was bored by my dissertations on the topic. Still, I would try to spread the flame of knowledge to all who would accept it, because Jedi are supposed to emit light, not darkness. "However, deserts are determined by the average amount of precipitation that they receive yearly, not by their temperature. Therefore, many arctic tundras in the global regions of many planets are constituted as deserts, as well."

"Oh." Eritae absorbed this revelation with a thoughtful nod, and then hedged, "This is a sandy desert, though, so shouldn't it be sweltering like it was today?"

"It should be during the day, but not at night," I responded. "During the day, the sun bakes the ground because there is little vegetation to shield it, but, once night comes, all the heat leaves quickly since the lack of vegetation means that the solar energy is not trapped near the surface as it is in other biomes on worlds like Naboo."

"Naboo is a beautiful planet, even more stunning than Ragoon-6 or Belazura, if you ask me," murmured Eritae, a dreamy cast creeping over her features that seemed almost ethereal in the dim illumination afforded by the glow rods stationed on the walls throughout the lounge. As I watched the play of the scant light across her face, I realized that she was quite attractive, although I of course noticed it in a detached fashion, just as I would note if she were an agile gymnast or an excellent shot. Sure, many would claim that she was merely pretty when compared with the famed beauty of her Queen, but I disagreed, and I could do so because I was not a citizen of Naboo, and therefore, didn't risk being charged with treason for harboring such a sentiment. That is, Queen Amidala's features were too masked by her face paint to permit one to actually judge them, and she was too aloft to seem entirely human. However, Eritae's face was easy to make out, and it was an unblemished one that was rendered all the more magnetic because of the wit and youth present there.

"Yes, it's a gorgeous world," I affirmed, not agreeing just out of a desire to appear diplomatic. Truly, Naboo was a gem of a planet. It was relatively unpolluted, had a wide variety of fauna and flora, and its cities had been designed with an eye for pleasant architecture and art. I wasn't positive that I would argue that it was as lovely as the pristine, essentially uninhabited worlds as Ragoon-6 and Belazura, because I felt that Naboo was in a different class, given that it did have a reasonable population size, which meant that comparing Belazura and Ragoon-6 to Naboo was rather like comparing fruits to vegetables.

"Or it was until they came with their horrid droids, and invaded our cities and ruined everything," she added, her cheeks coloring with wrath at the Trade Federation, even as tears glittered in her eyes. Glancing sidewise at her, I wondered if she had been unable to sleep not because she was cold, but because she couldn't banish the images of the droids slaughtering her people and her fellow citizens starving to death from her brain. My suspicion that this was the case was lent credence when she resumed, as tears started to flow down her cheeks, "How could they do that? How can they just destroy everything that we spent more than a century trying to build in a couple of days? How is that fair? Just because they don't value culture, how could they assume that nobody else does?"

"Queen Amidala will speak to the Senate soon," I answered stiffly since I didn't know how else to reply. Qui-Gon would have, but I wasn't him, and so I didn't. I couldn't offer her any physical comfort, either, because I was too conscious of the similarity in our age, which meant that a touch could easily be misinterpreted as a sign of romantic interest. Neither of us could jeopardize our reputation like that. Handmaidens were supposed to remain chaste, although they seldom did, instead electing to pursue their liaisons privately so as to avoid scandal, but oftentimes stringing along several men, not all of them young, at once. As for me, Jedi were sworn to a sexless life.

"You know that won't do any good," scoffed Eritae.

"Your Queen believes it will," I reminded her.

"Queens are fallible," she retorted. "Unlike those on many other planets, us Naboo do not subscribe to the doctrine of divine will. We migrated from the Core in part to escape such a philosophy. We only maintain the royal titles to honor our heritage and so we won't be accused of being barbarians."

"You aren't afraid of being thrown into jail for critizing your mistress," I observed dryly. "What influence do you have with her that permits you to be so blunt?"

"Friendship," grinned Eritae. "Queen Amidala and I attended school together, and we both were trained in politics together. She relies on me for guidance, and it would be a poor ruler indeed that could not depend upon her advisers to be honest with her."

"Most rulers don't expect earnestness from their staff," I commented. "Some would dismiss an honest servant and reward one who flatters them."

"Queen Amidala is not like that." Eritae shook her head briskly in negation. "She is outspoken herself, and I think she was elected because people were attracted to that fresh element about her. You see, people really do want to believe that decent, even great, beings do still enter the public service, however much they are jaded by the political scandals that occur far too often in planetary and galactic politics."

"I see," I frowned, considering her words. "You aren't Queen Amidala's closest confidante, though, are you? Isn't that handmaiden who went into Mos Espa, Padme, the Queen's favorite?"

"Nothing gets by you Jedi, huh?" smiled Eritae.

"No, nothing larger than a meteor shower misses us," I returned, "but you haven't answered my question, miss. The Queen's pet is Padme, isn't it?"

For a long moment, Eritae hesitated, and then, she confessed, "The Queen and Padme enjoy a― special―relationship. In fact, one could claim that Padme is basically her alter ego."

I debated inwardly asking her if Padme's special relationship with the Queen entailed bribery or blackmail, but I decided against it. After all, Eritae seemed devoted to her mistress, who she apparently deemed as being above the typical immorality of politicians, and I chose not to disabuse her of her idealistic perspective. She would learn the truth one day, but for now it seemed cruel to rip the wings off a little songbird that was already struggling to fly because her nest was being destroyed while her fellow hatchlings were trapped inside it.

In the end, because such a thought placed the Naboo crisis back on the forefront of my mind, I stated, "If the Queen's appeal to the Senate doesn't work, a solution will be devised. Don't fret about it."

"I'm worried that a solution won't be found," she whispered emphatically. "The Senate doesn't care about us because everyone is devoted to their own self interests, which don't involve ticking off the most powerful merchant guild in the galaxy, and the courts take even longer to resolve issues than the Senate does. Naboo's sun will burn out before they reach a decision. The only way to stop the Federation is by beating them at their own game: war. We've got no army, though, so it's hopeless, and once people realize what has happened to us, they'll see that civilization has gone because we've regressed to the epoch of brutal strength where whoever has bigger muscles wins, regardless of the rules that ought to govern acceptable conduct. If people can't depend upon others to abide by the law, then civilization will disappear. QED."

I shuddered at her grim assessment, but I managed to keep my tone level, as I answered, "I promise you that the Naboo crisis will be resolved somehow. Jedi serve the Republic, and we won't let it crumble."

For half a minute, she scrutinized me with narrowed eyes, and then she gave a barely perceptible nod. "I believe you, because I've been taught that Jedi don't lie."

"We don't," I reassured her solemnly, not bothering to point out that I would establish the same even if we did, although in the latter instance it would, of course, be a falsehood. After all, she didn't need anything else plaguing her while she fretted about the fate of her friends and family on her homeworld.

"Well, I'd better go back to bed now." Eritae pushed herself to her feet. "Qui-Gon might be able to concoct a scheme to attain the parts we need tomorrow, and I wish to be well-rested when we depart."

"Sleep well," I told her as she sailed out of the lounge, heading back toward the Queen's chamber. As my eyes followed her receding figure, I realized that my exchange with her had erased my desire to meditate. Shaking my head in faint reproof at my own fickleness, I rose as well and strode back to the bedchamber I shared with the other men.

It was another long day aboard the transport spent playing increasingly dull rounds of sabaac during which everybody's nerves became more and more frayed. As I played with the others, scrupulously refraining from utilizing the Force to augment my game, I tried to devise a plan that Qui-Gon could implement to acquire we required for repairs, but I didn't have much success.

I could only hope that my Master had better luck. This tenuous hope was dashed like finely wrought glass smashing to shards upon making contact with ferrocrete when he next communicated with me that evening at sunset.

"I have a plan to get us the components we need," announced Qui-Gon without preamble once I had accepted the transmission. Brilliant, I thought, but my mental applause was doomed to die almost immediately when he elaborated, "The slave boy, Anakin Skywalker, who took us in actually was responsible for creating it. Podracing is a major gambling event here that those with the credits indulge in, and Anakin has built his own pod. He will enter it in tomorrow's race―"

"Excuse me, but this lad that you speak of, is he human, Master?" I interjected, flabbergasted. I had assumed that the slave boy and his mother who had sheltered Qui-Gon and his companions had been human. Since humans were ubiquitous throughout the galaxy, it was common practice to assume that a body was human or humanoid unless it was specifically stated otherwise. Perhaps, however, Qui-Gon had neglected to mention that this Anakin Skywalker was a Dug or some other species well-adapted for the unique and taxing demands of Podracing. Yes, that must be it. Even my unorthodox Master would not endanger a human boy by allowing him to compete in a Podrace.

"Yes, he's human," Qui-Gon confirmed to my horror.

"But, Master," I stuttered, thinking that this scheme was the most lunatic one he had ever devised that that was saying something. Was there a tactful way to remind him that humans had not evolved for the rigors of Podracing? How could I respectfually state that humans only had the facility of a large enough brain to spot that Podracing was far too perilous for them to assist them in that deadly sport? Never mind. There was no method by which to achieve as much. I may as well be blunt. "Humans don't Podrace―"

"They do now, Obi-Wan," interrupted Qui-Gon steadily. By his tone, I gathered that his mind was made up, and I considered bashing my head against the metal wall I was leaning against in the lounge. However, I decided against this when I recalled that it would resolve nothing and would only serve to give me a walloping headache, which definitely was not something I would benefit from at the moment. "Listen to me, Padawan. Tomorrow Anakin will run the race for us. If he wins, we shall have the parts we need from Watto, his master. If he doesn't, then Watto gains ownership of the Queen's transport. Therefore, if all goes well, we will have our hyperdrive by tomorrow after noon and be on our way."

Yes, and if all didn't go well, we'd have no way of getting off planet until we somehow raised the funds necessary to purchase a vessel because we couldn't risk revealing our location by sending a distress message to the Temple. I had better order everybody on board to pack up their belongings tonight as this Anakin Skywalker had as much chance of surviving the Podrace as a snowball did in a supernovae.

It didn't require a brain the size of a blasted asteroid to discern that my Master's plan was flawed at best and insane at worst. If he was determined to rid us of our starship, why didn't he sell it and use the profits to buy a smaller transport? Or, if he had to gamble, why not play sabaac in the cantinas until the needed money was raised? He could even cheat with the Force if he went with the second proposal.

Yet, I didn't dare establish as much aloud. In the end, I merely asked uneasily, "What if this plan fails, Master? We could be stuck here for a very long time."

"A ship without a power supply will not get us anywhere," argued Qui-Gon in that mildly amused tone he always adopted whenever he deemed I had missed something crucial that was right under my nose. However, this time I thought that he was the one that was making no sense. Actually, it was worse than that: he was making anti-sense. After all, he was guilty of the cosmic non sequitur. That is, his scheme was akin to selling a house to pay off the mortgage or the speeder bike to buy the fuel.

Before I could find a respectful fashion to state this in, he mused more to himself than to me, "And there's something special about this boy."

I was about to sate my mounting exasperation with this whole scenario by demanding if there had been a special aura about Jar Jar Binks as well when my Master switched off his comlink. Doubtlessly, he didn't want his pesky Padawan to intrude upon his introspection with any more aggravating inquiries.

"This mission is becoming more and more of a bundle of joys as it progresses," I grumbled as I stowed my comlink back in my supply kit.

Poor Anakin Skywalker, whoever he is, I noted to myself as I headed off to the galley to join the others for the culinary splendors of dried victuals and evaporated beverages. He'll perish in an inferno just because my Master perceives him as "special." Granted, he's certifiably crazy to believe that he can Podrace, but children are prone to such fancies. Besides, if he is a slave, he probably figures that any life, even one as a Podracer, is preferable to the one he was born into. At any rate, he didn't deserve to die so young in such a fiery manner. Sure, slaves didn't live very lengthy or glamorous existences, but he deserved as much time as he could get. Now he would be deprived of at least a decade of existence owing to my Master's rash judgment that he was "special."

Poor us, I added, as I arrived in the galley and saw that we were having vegetable and meat patties that were hard enough to play a match of shockball with for supper, since we'll be stranded, shipless in the desert by this time tomorrow. Just when I think life can't get any more complicated, it shoves another surprise at me. If I were clever, I would expect nothing but difficulty in my life by now.


	8. Chapter 8

Questions

That night, long after Tatooine's twin suns had set, I was stationed once again in the cockpit of the Queen's craft. This time, I was enmeshed in a quest to uncover anything that was not bolted down to the transport that we could carry away with us once this Anakin Skywalker had met his untimely, fiery doom tomorrow and we had to hand over our ship to Watto.

Overall, I wasn't having much success in this endeavor. So far, my searching had only found a handful of stray writing implements, a few crumpled pieces of paper whose writing was no longer legible due to age, and a couple of old candy wrappers. All of these items were going to be more valuable to a garbage can than to poor, deserted us, unfortunately.

I was about to admit defeat and commence searching for potentially useful objects in the ship's lounge, instead, when my comlink buzzed. I whipped it out of my supply kit, saw that it was my Master who was contacting me, and answered, "Yes, Master."

I couldn't prevent a note of puzzlement from creeping into my voice. He had already updated me on the day's events in Mos Espa, so why did he wish to communicate with me again?

Somehow I doubted it was because he missed my presence so tremendously that he would settle for the next best thing, hearing my voice, and somehow I suspected that he hadn't decided to contact me merely because he was bored without my lively conversation and sparkling wit, either. We had operated separately in the past, and we both were accustomed to it, even if we didn't always enjoy it. No, there was a practical reason why he had contacted me.

Perhaps he had realized that his plan was a crazy one, but I wouldn't dare to hope for that. After all, I couldn't recall the last time Qui-Gon had changed his mind once he had made it up. So, if he hadn't changed his mind about his lunatic scheme, why was he contacting me?Well, I'd find out the reason soon. My Master had never been one for small talk on comlinks.

"Make an analysis of the blood sample that I'm sending you," he directed, as I pressed the button on my comlink which accepted the date that he was trying to transfer to me.

"It will take a minute," I educated him, leaning forward and plugging my comlink into one of the ship's datapads. With a few clicks on the keyboard, I arranged for it to upload the blood sample information from my comlink and analyze it for me.

"Done," I added when several charts depicting various statistics on the blood sample popped up on the screen before me. I hoped that he would tell me what he was interested in learning from this sample because, otherwise, it would take hours to reel off every scrap of information the datapad provided about the blood. Just about everything that could be determined about an organism via its blood was shown on the charts and graphs in front of me. Blood type, immunities to diseases, viruses, white blood cell count, and red blood cell count, as well as one hundred other things were listed.

"I need a midichlorian count," Qui-Gon told me.

"I've got it," I replied, maximizing the chart that bore that datum. It didn't strike me as a peculiar request then since there were plenty of beings who were Force-sensitive and not Jedi. Some of them were too weak in their connection to the Force to be taken back to the Temple for training, others had parents that refused to donate their offspring to the Jedi, and some had just never been identified until it was too late.

Out here, a Force-sensitive would likely have remained undiscovered by us because Tatooine wasn't part of the Republic, so no Jedi would concern themselves with the inhabitants of this harsh desert world and no parents on Tatooine would have been motivated to give up their children in service of a different government. Not that anyone here would want to hand their babies over to the Hutts either if they could help it. The Hutts would probably squash or eat the unlucky babies, and that was a fate no parent, however abusive, would wish for their offspring.

It was only when I glimpsed the midichlorian count that my eyes widened and my mouth gaped open in shock. I saw that it was off the scale, but that was impossible! There was no way that over twenty thousand midichlorians could be contained in such a minuscule amount of blood, not if the cells were comprised of anything except midichlorians, that it.

I wasn't aware of what precisely my midichlorian count was although I could have checked the Temple records for that information if I had desired to, but I didn't because I felt that if it were high, it would lead to complacency, and if were low, it would spark a despondent why-bother-trying-since-I'll-fail-dismally-anyway attitude, and neither were Jedi attributes. Still, I could estimate how many midichlorians I had, and that number was nowhere near as high as that of whoever had provided this sample. My Master's wasn't as high, either. Even Master Yoda's wasn't that high, and his was probably as above mine as a three-hundred-fifty story monad was above my head when I walked around in the Blackpit Slums last mission. But nobody could have more midichlorains than Master Yoda…

"What are your readings?" Qui-Gon pressed, intruding upon my musings when I had been silent for a moment too long.

"Something must be wrong with this transmission," I stated hesitantly. That was the only sensible explanation for this aberration, but, oddly enough, everything else about the communication was fine. I could hear him quite clearly, and there had been no complications in either data transfers. Yet, the figures on the graph could not possibly be valid for there was no way that anybody could possess more midichlorains than wise and powerful old Master Yoda, who was practically the embodiment of the Force.

"Here's a signal check," my Master said. The piercing noise that followed barely a second later illustrated quite plainly that the transmission was functioning optimally.

"Strange," I observed, frowning into my comlink, as I reminded myself to request Reeft to modify my comlink so that it wouldn't emit that shrill sound whenever I wanted to ascertain that it was performing correctly. I don't know why I kept putting that task off. "The transmission seems to be in good order, but the reading is off the chart― over twenty thousand."

"That's it," Qui-Gon responded, the satisfaction in his tone apparent even to my ringing ears.

"Even Master Yoda doesn't have a midichlorian count that high!" I exclaimed, astonished by his calm reaction to this revelation.

"No Jedi ever has," my Master agreed quietly.

"What does it mean?" I demanded, my mind whirling at about a million kilometers per second. I was striving, with minimal success, to absorb the stunning miidichlorain count.

The blood sample must have been from that slave lad, Anakin Skywalker. The red and white blood cell numbers were consistent with those of humans, and if the boy was this strong in the Force, that shed some light on my Master's choice to gamble upon him in tomorrow's Podrace. After all, if the boy had that many midichlorians, even without the benefit of training in the Force, he would be granted precognition that would allow him to foresee stretches of the perilous course before his opponents did and would permit him to sense any problems in his Pod before they manifested themselves in an obvious fashion. I was not positive that I would have bet my credits on him even knowing this, but I tended to be more skeptical than Qui-Gon.

My question, though, wasn't whose midichlorian count that was, or whether Anakin's skyscraper high midichlorian count would allow us to win the Podrace. What I wanted to know was what my Master was planning to do with the boy. He couldn't be thinking of bringing the lad back to Corcuscant to the Temple with us, could he?

No, he couldn't, I reassured myself. Granted, my Master delighted in bringing unconventional to never-before-seen levels on a regular basis, but even he had to acknowledge that all Jedi were taken from their homes to the Temple by the age of three and that this was no hollow tradition. It had been proven in centuries past that any training begun after three years of age was destined to fail.

The reason for this was simple. Jedi Masters constantly instruct their Padawans to trust their instincts as if these feelings are natural when they aren't. Nothing about being a Jedi is natural. The natural instincts are wiped out and replaced with new ones during Jedi training. Eventually, these adopted instincts become more potent than the natural ones, dictating Jedi behavior. In short, Jedi training relies upon conditioning, and organisms beyond the age of three have already been conditioned to act naturally, not with Jedi instincts, and nothing could change that. Even if a body were reconditioned, the old instincts would still be present and could flare up without warning, which could have devastating consequences.

However, my confidence in Qui-Gon's decision not to attempt to take Anakin back to the Temple with us was undermined when he only murmured, "I'm not sure," and switched off his comlink.

I scowled as I stowed away my comlink. How could he not recognize that despite the boy's high midichlorian count, he couldn't be taught as a Jedi? Well, I comforted myself after a moment, that doesn't matter because the lad is a slave and we certainly don't have the money to purchase him if we hadn't even possessed the funds to buy the replacement components we required for the repairs on the Queen's transport. Yet, that was a feeble comfort since I knew my Master well enough to realize that if he decided that he had to achieve something, he would discover a path by which to accomplish it, even if that route was full of dangers of every kind. Therefore, if he wanted to liberate Anakin and take him back to the Jedi Temple, he would find away to achieve this goal. As such, I could only hope that Qui-Gon would face the truth that there was no point in dragging Anakin before the Council only to be denied the opportunity to be trained as a Jedi because doing so was too much of a risk for the Order and the galaxy as a whole. After all, someone who had learned how to use the Force was far more dangerous than one who hadn't.

Either way, though, there wasn't much I could do from here. I would just have to wait and see what would happen, and that, unfortunately, entailed awaiting the outcome of tomorrow's Podrace. I sighed as I determined as much, leaving the cockpit to search for any potentially useful objects there. I didn't do so now because I was absolutely convinced that we would lose tomorrow's gamble, but because I needed something to occupy myself. If my hands were busy, it followed logically that my mind would be as well. At least that's what I told myself, even though worries still clouded my mind as I rummaged through the lounge, seeking anything that might be helpful to us in the future if we were compelled to abandon ship.

The next day, I awoke shortly after dawn despite the fact that I recognized that I could do nothing to impact the results of the Podrace from here, since I couldn't sleep when events that would affect all of us prodigiously were unfolding several kilometers away. Nor was I alone in this, for all of the vessel's other occupants assembled in the lounge along with me as if by some unspoken accord we had all agreed to congregate here for a silent meeting.

Sitting in the lounge with the others, I struggled to devise tactics for us to employ to raise the money to buy a ship to transport us to Coruscant if Anakin Skywalker did not win the competition and Qui-Gon's grand plan went awry.

We had all been sitting there for three hours, not conversing since we were all morosely reflecting upon what our fates would be if my Master's daring scheme backfired when Qui-Gon contacted me. Anxious for any information, I answered right away.

To my relief, he told me that Anakin had won the race and that he would be returning to the spaceship within the hour along with the parts we required for the repairs.

"What's happened?" inquired Captain Panaka brusquely, riveting his hard dark eyes upon me as I tucked my comlink back into my supply kit. People in the security industry, I commented wryly to myself, were rarely the politest or the most respectful of other beings' rights to privacy.

"The boy, Anakin Skywalker, has won the race, and Qui-Gon will be here with the parts within the hour," I explained.

At this announcement, Eritae, Rabe, and Queen Amidala all beamed as the tension that they had all strove to conceal behind make-up and political masks was released at last. The Naboo security guards applauded. Even Captain Panaka cracked a grim smile. However, no one's reaction could surpass Ric Olie's.

"Wonderful!" he whooped, throwing his arms into the air in exaltation. His eyes glittered with anticipation of mending his beloved vessel entirely after all these days of waiting.

Witnessing their jubilance, I couldn't prevent a grin from crossing my face either.

Fifty five minutes later, I was standing with Ric Olie outside the ship, staring out at the desert sands, waiting for the first distal trace of Qui-Gon and his comrades. I was mentally pleading with him to not decide to go on a quixotic quest to emancipate a certain slave named Anakin Skywalker instead of returning to the transport with the components we needed as he had said he would do.

My rigid body relaxed when I spotted Qui-Gon riding toward us on an eopi with Padme and Jar Jar riding the same animal in his wake. The parts we needed were affixed to the saddles, and Artoo was rolling behind the caravan. For some reason, the sight made me smile slightly, although that might have been because I glimpsed no new lifeform, which meant that my Master had accepted the fact that Anakin would have to remain here instead of becoming a Jedi.

Ric Olie and I helped Qui-Gon and his companions unload the components that we required. Once all the parts had been lugged onto the ship, Qui-Gon gestured for Padme and Jar Jar to board the vessel, which they did, trailing Ric Olie, who was eager to repair the ship he piloted.

When I saw that my Master had no intention of boarding the ship at this time, I arched an inquiring eyebrow at him, as I realized with a sinking feeling that we were probably about to have another tagalong added to our merry band.

"I'm going back," Qui-Gon declared, offering the most obvious reply possible to my questioning glance. That was one of his more vexing traits. When he was reluctant to share something, he could be so reticent that it would cause a Troig to bash its two heads together in exasperation. Luckily, I didn't have two heads to bang together in frustration or else I would have suffered permanent brain damage by this point in my apprenticeship. Maybe that would have been a good thing, though. Perhaps if I could no longer think, I wouldn't recognize just how crazy some of his ideas really were. "I have some unfinished business to attend to. I won't be long."

"Why do I sense that we've picked up yet _another _pathetic lifeform?" I emitted a long-suffering sigh. I knew I was pushing him, but it's a sad fact of life that you can often attain more information out of people if you get them annoyed. Angry beings tend to spill out things they don't necessarily intend to. While that tendency was reduced in a Jedi, it was not one we were immune to, and Masters and Padawans knew how to aggravate each other like nobody else did. It was the inevitable outcome of traveling beside the same being for years on end. Before you knew it, you were aware of what could make that person snap as much or more than you were cognizant of what could make you snap.

He took the bait. "It's the boy who's responsible for getting us these parts," he educated me sharply as if I hadn't figured that out for myself by now. Essentially, he was contending that Anakin wasn't pathetic, but he wasn't disputing the fact that soon we would have another unnecessary companion like Jar Jar tagging along behind us.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes since I was really too old for that. If I was going to be insubordinate, I would have to find a more mature way to go about it, assuming, of course, that there was a mature fashion in which to be disrespectful of authority. That was a question I could find the answer to while I waited for him to return with the pesky Anakin Skywalker, who was turning out to be far more trouble than he was worth. While I waited, I could discover what exactly the purpose of existence was, and if I hurried in that endeavor, I probably would be able to compose a satirical play in addition to this.

The impulse to roll my eyes must have flickered across my features somehow because Qui-Gon ordered tersely, "Just install the parts we need so we can get out of here."

"Yes, Master." I nodded obediently. "It shouldn't take long."

This was true, I thought, since Ric Olie probably had already installed the new components. Still, I would check in with the pilot after my Master had departed to rescue Anakin from his life of drudgery and oppression, and I would lend a hand as much as I could. That was basically abiding by Qui-Gon's commands. At any rate, it amounted to the same thing, and that was all that really mattered in the final analysis.

About an hour later, I was in the cockpit with Ric Olie as he passed through the final system checks, ascertaining that the new hyperdrive would indeed function adequately before we tested it in hyperspace. This was a clever notion, because if a hyperdirve failed in space, we would be trapped there forever more, and that was not something anyone really had as their life's ambition.

"Everything checks out," Ric Olie pronounced once he had finished with the last minute tests. "We can leave as soon as Qui-Gon returns."

"Good," I approved. However, the words that emerged from my lips were automatic. They couldn't precisely be constituted as a falsehood since I did believe that it was great that we now had an airworthy ship once more. Yet, I didn't feel relaxed or relieved at the moment. I felt more anxious than I had since Qui-Gon left to get Anakin, and I had the foreboding sensation that something not far away was very wrong, although it didn't seem to pertain to Anakin. That was odd.

I was trying to comprehend more about the source of my discomfiture when Captain Panaka dashed into the cockpit. When I saw this disciplined military man running, I knew that I was about to learn what was going horribly, and I locked eyes upon him, focusing on every word as he shouted, "Qui-Gon is in trouble! He says to take off!"

As Ric Olie flung himself into the pilot's chair, grabbing his controls, a slight sandy-haired lad who appeared to be about nine-years-old darted into the cockpit as well, his eyes wide with terror. From the unregulated power I felt emanating from his body in the Force, I discerned that this must be Anakin Skywalker, the boy who had the incredible midichlorian count, and who had been responsible for getting us the parts we needed. He had also been the reason that Qui-Gon had gone back to Mos Espa. Therefore, he was the cause of my Master being in trouble right now. But Jedi did not apportion blame, I chided myself, as Ric Olie shot us into the air.

He circled around, searching the desert ground below us for some sign of my Master's presence. However, he must have detected nothing for he established frantically, "I don't see anything."

I fought down my own panic and reached out to the Force instead. I could feel Qui-Gon's presence close by. Following his trail through the Force, I spotted a cloud of dust a little less than half a kilometer away.

"Over there." I pointed my finger at the disturbed sand, and Ric Olie soared off in the direction I indicated. "Fly low."

Once I had issued this directive, I realized that the pilot might take umbrage at being told how to do his job by a person that was at least two decades his junior. Luckily, he didn't, though. One of the perks of being a Jedi was that people naturally assumed that you knew what you were talking about even if you didn't. Of course, Ric Olie might only have abided by my command because I had sounded confident, not because I was a Jedi. It was hard to be certain, but it didn't matter since, at any rate, Ric Olie complied with my wishes.

In a display of his skill, he skimmed the craft across the surface of the desert, barely a meter above the crests of the dunes. As we came closer, I caught a glimpse of a pair of lightsabers, one emerald and one crimson, tangled in a lethal battle and flashing amidst the tornado of sand.

Swallowing hard, I hoped that my Master would spot the open entry ramp as the ship passed over his and his foe's heads. I didn't dare to use the Force to alert him that we were coming since any distraction, however brief, in an intense confrontation such as this could be fatal, and I couldn't stand the irony if my attempt at saving Qui-Gon's life ended up killing him. He'll see it, I soothed myself. He was so attuned to his surroundings that he couldn't possibly miss it. He had to see it, and he would.

As we sailed over the battle, I felt a surge in the Force, and I knew that my Master had drawn on it to leap onto the landing ramp. Excellent. I exhaled the breath that I hadn't even been aware that I was holding.

"Qui-Gon's on board," I stated to the group in the cockpit as a whole. Before anyone could respond, I pivoted and charged down the corridor toward the entry ramp. Behind me, I could hear feet smashing the floor. By the frequency of the sound, the person behind me was running as well, and by the vibrations of the floor, it was Anakin who was hurrying along after me.

Obviously, he was just as concerned about my Master's well-being as I was. I should have been pleased that Qui-Gon was able to inspire such love in other beings so quickly but instead I was miffed. Nobody cared about him the way that I did and certainly not some kid that had just met him. I had known him for years. He was like a father to me, for Force's sake!

As Qui-Gon came into view, my antipathy toward Anakin faded momentarily to be replaced by worry. My Master was lying in a sand-covered heap upon the alloy floor, soaked with sweat and panting. I frowned, noting that I had never seen him in such poor shape after a duel. If we hadn't picked him up when we did, he might have…

No, I wasn't going to space down that dangerous lane. He was fine, and that was all that mattered.

"Are you all right?" Anakin asked anxiously as we both knelt beside him. My hostility toward him returned as I thought that he had beaten me to voicing the inquiry that had been burning at my own lips. That meant nothing, though. There was no way that his bond with Qui-Gon was deeper or more complex than mine.

"I think so," Qui-Gon answered, his breathing still labored. With what seemed like a considerable effort, he pushed himself into a sitting position and commenced breathing at a more standard rate. "That was a surprise I won't soon forget."

"What was it?" I demanded, my forehead furrowing. I had seen the scarlet blade, and while a red lightsaber did not make a Sith, the fact that the person who had wielded it was powerful enough to give my Master a run for his credits implied that whoever his opponent was had been well-trained in the weapon borne by both Sith and Jedi. It could have been a Jedi who had left our Order, or it could have been…

No, that was impossible. The Sith had been extinct for a millennia. They were an Order that could not long endure and for purely realistic, not moral, reasons. The Sith had been created from renegade Jedi who had disagreed with the fundamental Jedi perception on the nature of the Force. According to Jedi precepts, the Force was an end in itself, not a means to an end. That is, when Jedi refer to "using" the Force, they are actually doing just the opposite. They are becoming a conduit for the Force by allowing it to work its will through them. The Sith philosophy was the converse of this belief. As far as the Sith were concerned, the Force was a means to an end with the objective being their own attainment of more power.

Since the Sith belief system was centered around acquiring more control over others at any costs, they naturally resisted the authority of others. This resulted in them functioning as more of a disorder than an order. No Sith would consent to follow the directions of another for long. Apprentices would murder their masters as soon as they deemed they had learned enough, and anytime a Sith lord gained any semblance of dominance over his peers, those beneath him ganged up on him and had him done away with, often with great glee and expertise. Thus, the internal strife of the Sith had resulted in their destruction. Ultimately, all us Jedi had to do was step back and allow them to extinguish themselves through their own hatred, ambition, and greed. It was the clearest example of the self-destructive nature of the Dark Side.

The point, though, was that Qui-Gon could not possibly have just combated a Sith since they had been out of the picture for a millennia. I had just managed to convince myself of this when my Master disabused me of my assurance.

"I don't know, but he was well-trained in the Jedi arts," he remarked, eyeing me seriously so that I understood that he believed the adversary he had just battled was a Sith, although he didn't want to establish as much in front of Anakin. His desire to protect this stranger caused a tinge of annoyance to mount inside me again, because it showed that my Master shared the boy's attachment on some level. "My guess is that he was after the Queen."

As I contemplated why a newly resurrected Sith would display such interest in the Queen of a small world, Anakin inquired, sounding more curious than worried now that he was sure that Qui-Gon was recovering, "Do you think he'll follow us?"

Personally, I thought that it was unlikely that a Sith would relinquish his pursuit of us so simply, and Qui-Gon confirmed this when he replied, "We'll be safe enough in hyperspace, but I have no doubt that he knows our final destination."

Which meant that the Sith did not want Queen Amidala to address the Senate on behalf of her people. Why not? Was this why I had sensed a distant evil even at the outset of this mission, and why the disturbance in the Force had multiplied while we were on Tatooine?

"What are we going to do about it?" persisted Anakin. I glared at him, thinking that he shouldn't be pushing my Master so much for information when he was in such a condition. Curiosity was all very well but a little consideration wouldn't be amiss.

Perhaps my feelings broadcasted themselves a bit too obviously through the Force because Qui-Gon answered, "We'll be patient."

It sounded like the words had been meant in response to Anakin's question, but I didn't need Qui-Gon's pointed glance to alert me that they were directed at me. He wanted me to be tolerant of the boy. I wasn't so sure that I could be. Something about him got under my skin, and then there was the fact that his presence here indicated that many problems would probably be forthcoming. After all, there was the question of what exactly Qui-Gon intended to do with the lad once we reached the capital.

If he expected Anakin to become a Jedi, that did not bode well at all. The Council would never agree to violate precedent in such a perilous matter, and I could only support such a ruling wholeheartedly. That meant that my Master and I would clash again. Again it would be me who took the conservative stance, which was ironic since one would anticipate that the younger man would be less likely to abide by the edicts of the Council. However, that was not so. Perhaps my attitude was simply a reaction against and a compensation for Qui-Gon's unorthodox behavior. I didn't know if that was truly the case, and I suspected that I never would.

While such ideas spiraled around inside my head, Qui-Gon waved a hand and introduced Anakin and I. "Anakin Skywalker, meet Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"Pleased to meet you." Anakin spoke with automatic politeness, as though we had not seen each other before. Perhaps he hadn't really noticed me before, however, because when he spun about to shake my hand, his eyes expanded as he observed my outfit. "Wow! You're a Jedi too?"

His enthusiasm dampened my antagonism somewhat, but I still wasn't positive that bringing him to Coruscant was a brilliant proposal. Emancipating him hadn't been wrong since slavery was something I did not condone, and we certainly owed him his freedom after he had gotten us the parts we needed. Taking him to Coruscant wasn't even a bad idea as long as he was placed in a foster home where he could grow up as a normal civilian. If that was what Qui-Gon had planned, I agreed with him, but if he was planning on requesting that Anakin be trained as a Jedi, I sensed that a host unpleasant things would be occurring in the near future.

Unfortunately, I had the nasty suspicion that he planned on requesting that Anakin become a Jedi. Well, I'd hate for life to be boring, I thought as I shook hands with the boy, forcing a half smile because courtesy demanded it, I might not know how to occupy myself then.

When I got to Coruscant, the answers to all my questions would become clear, and things would get very exciting, undoubtedly. For now, I would be patient as Qui-Gon had ordered. What would happen would occur, and there was nothing I could do to prevent it, so I may as well accept it as it came.


	9. Chapter 9

Prophecies

Prophecies

Two days later, we emerged from the hyperspace lane and shifted back to sublight speeds just outside of Coruscant's atmosphere. I was sitting in the cockpit with Ric Olie and Anakin Skywalker, who had become quite attached to the pilot because he was enamored of anything that pertained however remotely to flying, when we exited hyperspace just outside of Coruscant's atmosphere.

When he glimpsed the capital of the Galactic Republic for the first time, Anakin pouted, obviously finding that it did not match his expectations as things in life seldom do to the disappointment of a majority of organisms, and complained, "It looks like a dead sand lizard."

Clearly, he was referring to the metallic sheen of the dayside of the planet, which resulted from the fact that the whole world was a massive city, whose natural terrain had long since been modified to mesh with the demands of the ever-encroaching urban center. It had been centuries ago when the last natural lake had been channeled into the subterranean sewers beneath the slums of Coruscant, creating more room on which to construct more conapts and corporations.

Although I was obliged to concede that Coruscant's dayside lacked the pristine white hue of the ice worlds like Hoth, the lush blue and green appearance of watery worlds like Naboo, and the golden color of desert worlds such as Tatooine, I thought that the nightside of Coruscant was quite attractive. All of the city lights sparkling in the obsidian background adopted a warm amber glow, which no other planet could parallel since no other world was one gigantic ecumenopolis. At night, Coruscant could even outshine at close range the spectacular nebulae and globular structures of the Galactic Core. I often reflected that it made sense that the nightside of Coruscant looked prettier than the day one from outer space since my favorite time on the planet was the nighttime, when all the lights were switched on and everything was iridescent.

As I contemplated the planet on which we were about to land, Ric Olie navigated the Queen's craft onto one of the thousands of space lanes that led through planetary security to the city below. Since our transport belonged to royalty, it was quickly given clearance, and we were able to descend to the planet without waiting on the seemingly interminable line that those without friends in high places were forced to endure.

When we pierced through the clouds shielding the world and the endless expanse of towering, shimmering edifices that was Coruscant came into view, Anakin's eyes widened. I understood his astonishment, even if he was not one of my hundred favorite people in the galaxy. Newcomers, even though they are aware of the fact that the planet is nothing more than a giant city in which buildings stick out of like needles in a pincushion, are always taken aback when they spot the sheer enormity of this ecumenopolis of towers, monads, ziggurats, palazzi, domes, and minarets. It always leaves them breathless when they see the teeming hundreds of strata clogged with skycars, speeders, and air taxis. Suddenly, it slams into them that they are just one of trillions of beings on this world, and they realize just how insignificant they are in the scheme of things.

Since I was raised on Coruscant, it does not awe me the way it does most sentinents. After all, I recognize from experience that the rarefied upper levels, spacious, clean, and cultured, are just an image cultivated by the ruling classes. Like all other visions of soaring beauty and wealth, no matter how stately, the perfect picture presented by Coruscant's upper levels had to be grounded somewhere, somehow. On Coruscant, below the lowest stratum of air traffic, beneath the illuminated skywalks and glinting facades, lay another world. There, sunlight never penetrated; the eternal city night was lit only by flickering neon holoprojections advertizing sleazy attractions and shady businesses. Spider-roaches and gargantum armored rats infested the shadows, and hawk-bats with up to one and a half meter wingspans roosted on deserted structures. This was the dark underbelly of Coruscant, unseen and unacknowledged by the wealthy and the privileged, belonging solely to the disenfranchised and the damned. This was a world that made even Tatooine seem tame and civilized by comparison.

Anakin Skywalker didn't realize that, though. The admiring expression in his eyes attested to the fact that he had perceived Coruscant as the ones in power desired visitors to: he had seen it as the vibrant center of the universe, the cynosure of all inhabited worlds, the crown jewel of the Core systems, the seat of government of the myriad worlds that spanned an entire galaxy, the epitome of culture and learning, and the synthesis of a million different civilizations.

While the former slave gawked around at the skytowers and superskytowers, which could reach up to two kilometers in height, Ric Olie steered us into a traffic lane for the exclusive use of influential politicians and corporate owners. Despite the exclusive nature of this lane, it was still congested, and, when we neared the Senate, and our lane merged with two others over the Senate landing pad, chaos ensued.

Ironically, those who had devised the legislation that governed the lives of those who lived in the Republic were those who were most prone to breaking their own laws. For instance, they or more likely their underlings, seemed fairly incompetent at adhering to the relatively basic laws that detailed who yielded to whom in a merge. Seeing the selfishness and the reluctance to sacrifice or compromise in even small matters in the Senators and those who worked for them often made me question just how logical and effective our government was.

After all, if these organisms botched even simple merging procedures, could they really, in all fairness, rule over us? Still, I had vowed to serve the Republic, which amounted to supporting the Senate that was its corporeal representation. Therefore, I'd have to continue to slave away for these idiotic politicians while I hoped that one day at least one of them would elect to enroll themselves or an aide in a driving course.

The terrible flying practices of those who chauffeured for the best and brightest in the galaxy were illustrated beyond all possible dispute when we arrived at the intersection. Since our lane was going straight onto the landing platform where Supreme Chancellor Valorum and Naboo Senator Palpatine were waiting to welcome Queen Amidala to Coruscant, we, technically, had the right of way, superseding the lanes that were turning to the left or right onto the landing pad. However, insignificant issues, such as the rules of the road, mattered not at all to the pilot of the sleek spaceship that would shift to the left to reach the platform. That this was the case was plain when he flared up his engines and abruptly shot in front of Ric Olie, as the pilot of our vessel prepared to land on the pad.

Cursing and declaring that the driver of the other vehicle was the product of an improbable romance between a Hutt and a Toydarian, Ric Olie slammed on the breaks. Luckily, this prevented us from ramming into the other ship, although it had the unfortunate consequence of jolting us all forward in our seats.

As the other cruiser landed without any acknowledgement on the part of its pilot that he had almost caused an accident, Ric Olie calmed down somewhat. While he lowered the transport down in front of the Chancellor and Senator Palpatine, he glanced apologetically at Anakin and grunted, "I forget you were present, youngling."

"I've heard worse." Anakin shrugged. This was probably an accurate assessment, as the streets of Mos Espa were not among the most refined in the galaxy. In fact, Ric Olie's comment probably would have been constituted as a display of wit rather than crass humor there.

"Right, well, we'd better get a move on," observed Ric Olie gruffly while he finished powering down the vessel. "It's not advisable to keep important people waiting unless you want to enjoy a stint on one of the galaxy's less hospitable prison worlds."

"What am I supposed to do?" Anakin inquired, gazing anxiously up at Ric Olie as the three of us headed out of the cockpit and down the corridor toward the boarding ramp, where Qui-Gon, the Queen, her entourage, and the Naboo sentries were already assembled, prepared to depart.

"Just try to fade into the background like me," replied the pilot, reaching out to clap the lad's shoulder, but Anakin had caught sight of Qui-Gon and had dashed over to stand beside my Master, instead.

Scowling because such an action seemed to indicate that Anakin desired a position among the Jedi, I nodded a farewell at Ric Olie and walked over to join my Master as well.

When everybody was in his or her correct location and Anakin and Jar Jar had been directed to follow the lead of everyone else when it came to bowing before the dignitaries and other matters of protocol, Captain Panaka lowered the ramp, and we all disembarked in order of rank to meet the waiting Chancellor and Senator. The Chancellor was a rail-thin, white-haired gentleman who emitted a nervous tension. In contrast, Palpatine was tranquil and beaming in his cerulean veda robes that denoted his exalted office.

After our entire delegation had bowed deeply before the Chancellor, with Jar Jar and Anakin genuflecting a second after the rest of us, Palpatine greeted his Queen unctuously and then presented her to Chancellor Valorum. Once they had been formally introduced, Valorum pronounced, "Welcome, Your Highness. It is an honor to meet you in person. I must tell you how distressed everyone is over the current situation. I've called a special session of the Senate to hear your petition."

Personally, I doubted that anybody in the Senate cared about anyone other than themselves and those who funded their campaigns, and, therefore, I suspected that the special session would be as effective as shouting into a raging windstorm when the wind was blowing the opposite direction. Her possibly eloquent speech would have more of a chance of resolving the Naboo crisis if she delivered it here on this landing pad than it would when she made it before the Senate.

Either Queen Amidala was too idealistic to face the grim truth or else she was determined to be polite at all costs, for she only inclined her head gracefully, responding gravely, "I am grateful for your concern, Chancellor."

It was amazing, I noted, how she could establish as much without a trace of sarcasm. That was something I would never be capable of, but, then again, Jedi training did not incorporate lying lessons as political training did.

The courtesies completed, to my relief, Palpatine motioned Queen Amidala, her handmaidens, her guards, and Ric Olie toward an air taxi at the far end of the platform. As they started off, I heard the Senator rambling on about precedents and clauses in the Constitution. Shaking my head ruefully, I thought that even though the Queen had barely arrived, she was already to be locked into a political prison. Well, I supposed that was why she had traveled here anyway and why she had sought power in the first place.

The congregation had journeyed a handful of meters when the Queen pivoted and waved for Anakin and Jar Jar to accompany her. Instantly, Jar Jar moved to comply, almost tripping over a re-fueling line in his excitement. As the Gungan made his doubtlessly valuable contribution to the Naboo group, Anakin shot my Master a questioning look.

When Qui-Gon nodded for him to go, Anakin hurried after the Queen and her entourage, as I realized that my mentor must have requested that the Queen have Jar Jar and Anakin accompany her before we left, but why?

The answer to that inquiry was provided as the air taxi glided away, and my Master regarded the Supreme Chancellor. "I must speak with the Jedi Council immediately, Your Honor," he stated, bowing. "The situation has become…more complicated."

Now that he established as much, I felt like an imbecile not to have figured it out earlier. Of course my Master would want to inform the Council that he had encountered what he believed to be a Sith Lord. It is always crucial when a powerful and evil order that has been deemed as extinct for a millennium returns.

Yes, complicated definitely summed up this mission to Naboo, which should have been a relatively basic one, but had now blossomed into a major headache. Complicated described our nonexistent negotiations with the Trade Federation, our journey through the Core, our stay on Tatooine, our dealings with Jar Jar…and anything involving Anakin Skywalker.

Oh, how I hoped that Qui-Gon was not planning on mentioning Anakin to the Council. That would make things even more complicated, and that was the last thing we required at the moment.

It took perhaps fifteen minutes for us to secure an air taxi and ride back to the Temple in it. While the driver conveyed us to the Temple, I considered asking Qui-Gon whether he was planning on speaking to the Council on Anakin's behalf, but in the end, I decided against it, figuring that I would discover the answer to that question soon enough when we reported to the Council, and I had no wish to plant a seed in his mind that might take root and germinate on the off-chance that it hadn't already been sown. So, I did not speak at all, and we both were silent as we completed our journey.

As soon as we entered the Temple, Qui-Gon and I stepped into a turbolift, which we took up to the highest floor, because the Jedi Council chamber was located at the peak of the Temple, just below its crowning spire. When we arrived at our destination, the room just outside the Council chamber where those waiting to speak with the Council could rest on various wooden chairs and plush sofas, Qui-Gon asked to meet with the Council immediately. Since they were not busy with anybody else at the moment, they honored his request.

Before we knew it, we were standing in the middle of the Council chamber, as we had at the outset and the completion of at least a hundred missions. Yet, this time it felt different. As usual, Qui-Gon addressed the Council while I stood quietly by his side, but his report touched only briefly upon the events on Naboo and the Prodrace, though he described the fight on the Tatooine dunes in such great detail that I began to sweat just listening to him. It was like watching him struggle to recover from his battle all over again, and that was something I could have gone my whole life without experiencing once, nonetheless twice, especially in such rapid succession.

"My only conclusion can be that it was a Sith Lord," announced Qui-Gon once he had finished his harrowing description of his confrontation with the man who had carried the crimson lightsaber, which was a good thing because it meant I could stop dwelling upon what might have occurred if my Master had not survived that fight and permitted me to focus on less depressing topics.

A collective hush fell over the assembly at this revelation. The surprise and horror of the Council was a living, breathing, overwhelming presence in the chamber. At first, nobody looked at each other, instead gazing out the glass windows that encircled the room at the traffic whizzing by outside or scrutinizing the marble floor, studying the exact patterns of the designs that they had encountered thousands of times before but had never taken the time to truly absorb. Then, after some of the shock had worn off, the chamber's occupants moved onto the second stage of their trauma, exchanging bewildered expressions with those next to and across from them. Finally, the stoic and severe Mace Windu recovered enough to speak.

"A Sith Lord?" he repeated, his black eyes that were capable of discerning every flaw in a being, locking on Qui-Gon's face.

"Impossible!" dismissed Ki-Adi-Mundi, and I bordered on disrespect in thinking that his bluster was a product of denial. As one of the more experienced Jedi in the Order, my Master was certainly capable of distinguishing between an opponent that had learned to wield a lightsaber and one that had mastered the nature of the Dark Side of the Force. "The Sith have been extinct for a millennium."

However, it transpired that the rest of the Council was not so certain, and Master Yoda's convoluted ears twitched as they often did when he was contemplating the complexities of the Force, because apparently moving his ears about facilitated his connection to the power that bound all life, light and dark, good and evil, smart and stupid, together. "The very Republic, threatened is, if involved the Sith are," he commented in his gravelly voice.

"I do not believe that they could have returned without us knowing," countered Mace Windu skeptically. He was among the few Jedi that could contradict Yoda so bluntly since he was widely regarded as the second most powerful Jedi in the Order, which was why the second senior Council position belonged to him. When he was thirty, he was appointed to the Council, making him the youngest Jedi to receive that distinction, and why he had attained it was no mystery to anyone who had the sense of a dinko. His presence in the Force was commanding, and he was determined, driven, and intense in addition to being the creator of Vaapad, the most dangerous style of lightsaber combat of all. Still, all this led him to favor action, whereas Yoda would often advise a patient vigilance. Together, these two influences balanced each other, allowing the Jedi to pursue a stable middle course.

"Hmm, hard to see the Dark side is," rasped Master Yoda, closing his eyes as he examined some current in the Force that none of the rest of us could feel. Around the Council circle, heads bobbed in affirmation of this point, as Master Yoda resumed, "Discover who this assassin is, we must."

"I sense he will reveal himself again," Ki-Adi-Mundi declared slowly, obviously striving to see into the future as he made this assertion.

"This attack was with a purpose, that is clear," agreed Mace Windu, "and I also think that the Queen was his target."

As heads nodded again throughout the room, Yoda riveted his orb-like green eyes upon my Master and ordered, "With this Naboo Queen you must stay, Qui-Gon. Protect her."

"We will use all our resources here to unravel this mystery and discover the identity of your attacker," added Mace Windu. "May the Force be with you."

As the standard farewell among the Jedi, this was plainly intended to serve as a dismissal from the Council chamber as it always did. Out of habit, I bowed and turned to leave as the other members of the Council echoed Mace's traditional well-wish. However, I stopped at the doorway when it dawned on me that my Master wasn't accompanying me.

With a sinking feeling, I realized that he was about to broach the subject of Anakin, which meant that he was still harboring under the delusion that the Council would allow the boy to be trained. Honestly, didn't he recognize that this was a fruitless endeavor? After all, the very fact that the boy was so powerful showed that he was too dangerous to train since there could be no guarantees that he wouldn't fall victim to the seductions of the Dark Side, especially because he would enter his training so late.

"Master Qui-Gon, more to say have you?" demanded Yoda in a tone as dry as the desert we had just left behind us on Tatooine, a place where I hoped I would never have to visit in my life again.

"With your permission, my Master," Qui-Gon responded, displaying as much deference as he ever could.

When Yoda nodded for him to continue, I groaned inwardly, wishing that I could transform into a slab on the wall or a tile of marble on the floor, but, since that was impossible, I crossed over to stand beside my Master, mentally imploring him not to drag up Anakin.

Surely, he would realize it was pointless to do so, invent some minor inquiry about the next phase of our mission, and leave before he was engaged in yet another debate with the Council that he couldn't win. Even as the thought entered my mind, though, I knew he wouldn't do so. He was too stubborn and devoted to pursuing what he deemed as the proper path.

My analysis of him was proven accurate when he went on, "I have encountered a vergence in the Force?"

The Council stirred, and I gasped. He was referencing an ancient Jedi prophecy about how a Chosen One would appear to bring balance to the Force once a darkness had expanded across the galaxy. Could he really believe that Anakin Skywalker was this Chosen One? Not that it mattered if he did because the Council would probably not be persuaded to see his viewpoint on this, either, and Anakin would still not be trained. If it was indeed his destiny to bring balance to the Force, then he would have to go about fulfilling it without Jedi training.

"A vergence, you say?" asked Yoda, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized my Master.

At Qui-Gon's nod, Mace Windu pressed, "Located around a person?"

"A boy," Qui-Gon elaborated. "His cells have the highest concentration of midichlorians that I have ever seen in a lifeform. It is possible that he was conceived by the midichlorains."

I couldn't dispute the claim about the skytower high midichlorian count since I had run the test through myself, but that didn't mean that Anakin should be trained. Midichlorians didn't make a Jedi. Training did, and training after three years of age was doomed to failure. That was an established dictum that was hardly likely to change anytime in the foreseeable future because the cases proving it were essentially unassailable.

"You refer to the prophecy of the one who will bring balance back to the Force." Reclining in his chair, Mace Windu arched a dubious eyebrow at Qui-Gon. "You believe it is this― boy?"

"I don't presume," Qui-Gon started, although it was obvious to everyone assembled that he did.

"But you do!" interjected Master Yoda, jabbing his cane in Qui-Gon's direction to emphasize his statement. "Revealed, your opinion is."

"I request the boy be tested," my Master insisted in a stony voice.

The Council members swapped exasperated looks, and Yoda's keen eyes glittered. "Trained as a Jedi, you request for him?"

"Finding him was the will of the Force." Qui-Gon remained adamant. "I have no doubt of that. There is too much happening here…"

"Bring him before us then," sighed Mace Windu, waving a hand in dismissal.

"Tested, he will be," concluded Yoda in his most ominous voice.

Unaffected by tones that would have made me cringe if they had been aimed at me, Qui-Gon bowed and left the Council chamber. Relieved that ordeal was over, I mirrored him. As we headed over to collect Anakin from the Queen's apartments, I thought that this whole affair was a dreadful waste of time, and I couldn't help but wondering why my Master felt compelled to champion hopeless cases with the Council that only led him to lose ever more status among the Jedi every time he set his will against theirs. Why couldn't he just abide by the rules ninety-five percent of the time like the rest of us?

That was a question only Qui-Gon knew the answer to and he wasn't very skilled at explaining it.


	10. Chapter 10

Darkness and Debates

At most half an hour later, Qui-Gon and I had collected the problematic Anakin Skywalker and escorted him back to the Jedi Temple to be examined by the Council. Now we were both seated on the plush sofas of the waiting room outside the Council chamber. Neither of us addressed each other, but I was positive that we could both feel the tension engulfing us.

I knew that my Master was impatient to hear the Council's ruling although he didn't fidget or give any external clue of his emotional turmoil. He didn't have to, though, because I could feel the coils― the tautness― in his Force presence and comprehended well enough what it signified, even if I had seldom felt it emanating from him during our many years together.

As for him, could he sense my own impatience with this delay over an already foregone issue? Could he be aware of how much I was itching to inform him that I already knew that the Council would not permit Skywalker to be instructed in the way of the Jedi? That was something I couldn't sense and saw no profit in inquiring into.

I was about to risk being too bold by remarking that there was no way that the boy could pass the tests and that my Master already was aware of this fact just to shatter the awkward quiet that enshrouded us and to return him to reality when Qui-Gon pushed himself to his feet.

"Come on, Obi-Wan," he ordered. "Let's go for a walk."

As I got to my feet and fell into step beside him, I noted inwardly that this was further proof of his anxiety. Whenever my Master was uneasy or had much weighing upon his mind, he would stroll about whenever possible until he had resolved whatever was plaguing him. Myself, I preferred to sit still when I was devising solutions to my problems since walking around provided numerous distractions that I could entangle myself in to escape the true problem. Therefore, I would rather have remained where I was until the Council summoned us again, but Qui-Gon hadn't asked if I wanted to take a stroll with him― he had ordered me to do so, and I would obey.

I walked with him down the marble corridor lined with pillars and glow rods that were now dimming to a meditative hush as dusk set over this portion of Coruscant. As we progressed down the hallway, our footsteps reverberated loudly in the silence. Normally, I didn't mind the quiet that settled between us frequently because it held a companionable quality of shared thoughts, emotions, and experiences. This silence was different, though, and in this case, that was not a bonus.

The quiet between us now was charged with words we wished to express aloud but didn't dare. It was diseased and discomfiting, and I would have given away one of my few possessions if he would have broken it, but he didn't, so the task fell to me. As we neared the end of the corridor, I drew up my courage and remarked, "The boy will not pass the Council's tests, Master, and you know it. He is far too old."

Qui-Gon quirked half an eyebrow at me, seeming to state that he was cognizant of no such fact, and then he directed his gaze toward the cityscape that was now glittering in the dying pink and orange streams of fading sunlight as we both strode onto the balcony that the hallway fed into.

"Anakin will become a Jedi, I promise you," he assured me steadily. I groaned inwardly, convinced that his emotions were causing him to deny the truth that the Council would not accede to his viewpoint, which was not a Jedi attribute. Then, I realized that I might be misinterpreting his reply. Perhaps he had already accepted the fact that the Council would admit Anakin Skywalker to training when all the ice on Hoth had melted. Perhaps he was even now bracing himself for yet another titanic battle with those who led our Order…

"Don't defy the Council, Master," I half-warned and half-implored when this notion occurred to me. "Not _again_." Don't make me watch you incite the Council's disapproval again, I finished my plea mentally. Don't force me to choose between you and them. Every time you do that, you rip my mind and my heart in two.

Despite my intense desire to establish as much aloud, I couldn't because a mature Jedi did not beg or display his emotions on his sleeves like that. If my Master cared about my feelings, he would have to rely upon what was revealed by my facial expressions and the inflections in my tone. That would have to suffice.

For a moment, he stiffened, and I understood that he had only detected the warning in my voice, the contradiction to his own thoughts. Then, he relented, apparently hearing the depths of concern for him.

"I will do what I must, Obi-Wan," he stated with a deceptive silence that belied the durasteel intractability that he would doubtlessly demonstrate soon when the Council presented its judgment on the case. His eyes shifted from an air taxi probably filled with homeward-bound commuters that was speeding by in the lane closest to us to regard me carefully. "Would you have me be any other way?"

The question hung between us in the air, chilling and taking on a life of its own. One that only fortified the barrier that was being erected between us as we both came down on opposing sides of the all-important Skywalker issue. My initial impulse was to pronounce that I would have him be a little less of a maverick if I could. After all, he had provided me with the perfect opening to express my innermost sentiments on the subject, and opportunities like that were few and far between, so I really should have taken advantage of it.

Yet, in the end, I pursed my lips together and did not respond, figuring that I would treat his inquiry as the rhetorical one he most likely had intended for it to have been. When the core of the matter was studied, I didn't want him to be any different than he was, not really.

He was my Master, and I loved him as a son would his father. If he wasn't a maverick, then he wouldn't be Qui-Gon Jinn. He wouldn't be the daring, confident, and compassionate man that I knew so intimately and loved so much. He would be somebody else and I could never have precisely the same feelings for someone else as I did for my Master.

He must have recognized this, which was why he had felt safe posing such a question in the first place. Anyway, I added with a trace of bitterness, it was not as though he would have altered himself to conform to my wishes, so it was a moot point anyhow.

Still, why couldn't he get it through his stubborn skull that it wasn't in his best interests to be so obstinate? Why couldn't he realize that he ought to submit his will to the Council's at least on this issue? If he didn't want to face the truth of this, maybe I could persuade him to do so…

"Master, you could be sitting on the Council right now if you would just follow the Code," I reminded him, locking my gaze on his unwaveringly so that it would register with him that I wasn't merely utilizing the politician's trick of flattery. When he shrugged as if to answer that rank was of minimal importance to him, I emitted a frustrated sigh. If he was trying to raise a fresh recruit for the Dark Side, he was doing a swell job because I could conceivably fall prey to the Dark Side from an overwhelming compulsion to smack some sense into him. With a prodigious effort, I throttled back my mounting temper and added forcefully, "They won't go along with you this time." My anger receding somewhat, I completed mentally, And, call me selfish, but I don't want to be around to discover what follows then.

For a long moment, Qui-Gon did not reply. Instead, he just stood there with his head cocked slightly to the left, studying me from top to two as if I were a graph that he could easily read and comprehend. Then, he offered me a faint half smile and reflected in a melancholy voice as he draped an arm across my shoulder, "You still have much to learn, my young Padawan."

Well, there was no denying that. There was still much for me to learn, even if I felt that I was right on this subject, and I would never become as educated as it was possible to be. Nobody would ever master all there was to know about life in this universe. Even Master Yoda didn't have a lifespan long enough to do so. However, I didn't comprehend why he had to sound so sorrowful when he stated this fact. Learning meant growth and without growth there would be stagnation and decay. Personally, I would prefer growth to stagnation and decay any day of the week but that could just be me, although I never would have categorized my Master as the sort to favor stagnation and decay over growth, but he always found a way to surprise me.

Speaking of his surprises, something wasn't right here. My suspicion was only confirmed when I gazed into his eyes and spotted an expression that suggested he was attempting to convey a very crucial message to me. I didn't know how that particular look translated into Basic, though, and I wished that he would just communicate with me orally, unless he was determined to be an enigma, in which case, he should by all means persist in looking at me in such a cryptic fashion.

Suddenly, his hand on my shoulder felt dishonest as though he were striving to employ physical proximity to compensate for our current lack of emotional and intellectual closeness. I couldn't tolerate that, but I couldn't break free either. That would have been rude, which would only serve to further tear the fraying ties that bound us together, something that was definitely not needed. Therefore, I permitted him to rest his broad hand on my shoulder as we both stared out at the sunset, a million kilometers of distance between us although we were side-by-side, our very nearness highlighting the rift between us.

As I watched the Coruscanti sunset, I contemplated the tide of recent events. It was ironic that my Master, who always emphasized the importance of the fluid and unpredictable Living Force, would believe one of the hundreds of prophecies recorded by an ancient Cephalon Jedi Master.

Cephalons were a species of oblate globe organisms that were nonlinear and perceived things in four dimensions. This meant that they could see into the past, present, and future all at once. On the downside, attempts to translate their words into Basic were seldom very successful, owing to the Cephalon tendency to erratically switch tenses and personae. This led to stores of prophecies resembling this poodoo, "Sentients are/have been/shall be disunited. I/we apperceive discontinuity", rather than anything useful like, "Three hundred years from now, the Festering Plague will break out on Corellia―wear gloves and breathing masks when you travel there to help the sick." All in all, the Chosen One could have been anyone in the past, present, or the future, as well as anyone from the Cephalon's past, present, or future.

Granted, the prophecy had referred to a Chosen One appearing to the Jedi when a great darkness had enveloped the galaxy once more, and the Siths' resurrection had coincided with the discovery of Skywalker…

Shaking my head to erase such confusing thoughts before my brain exploded as a result of overexertion from attempting to make sense of the incomprehensible, I dedicated myself to just enjoying the setting of the sun. After all, there was little enough beauty in life so I might as well relish it while it endured.

Calming my mind, I noticed how shadows ran like black water, filling up alleys first, then climbing resolutely higher in a wave of darkness that rose to drown the capital. I observed how twilight's gloom spread over retail districts and medcenters, and crept like an obsidian stain up the walls of residences as the sun dipped below the horizon. Soon only the rooftops were gilded with the day's light.

On a moonless night a million standard years earlier, I mused, perhaps even before the evolution of sentient beings, sunset would have meant the reign of blackness absolute. Not now. Now Coruscant was the blazing heart of the mightiest civilization in galactic history. As the sun retreated, the massive city began to sparkle with innumerable lights. Speeders darted between tall towers like glowflies dancing in meadows of transparisteel. Neon signs flared to life along every boulevard, blinking bright empty promises at evening passersby. Lights flickered on in the windows of conapts, stores, and offices.

Dusk on Coruscant was typically my favorite time since it meant that the rush and rigor of the day was finally over, and now I could sleep, comfortable in the knowledge that I had accomplished my duties to the best of my ability. Symbolically, I had always been attracted to the notion that life continued to perpetuate itself despite the gathering dark, because it had always appeared to me that each light represented an individual that was burning bravely against the night. Tonight, however, dusk disconcerted rather than soothed me.

It reminded me too much of the return of the Sith. Now, it seemed to me that as the lights of Coruscant diminished, gradually replaced by the natural lights of the few twinkling starts that could get through the near continual glare, the great and towering urban center adopted a vastly different appearance.

Under today's dark evening sky, the skyscrapers seemed to be transformed into gigantic natural monoliths, and all the super-sized structures that so dominated the city, that so marked Coruscant as a monument to the ingenuity of rational species, seemed somehow the mark of folly, of futile pride striving against the expanse and the majesty of something eternal that was beyond the grasp of any petty mortal. Even the wind at this high level sounded like a mournful dirge, almost like a herald of the destruction that would eventually and inevitably wreck this glorious civilization and the powerful Republic it symbolized.

As I gazed out at the city, I wondered what exactly bringing the Force back into balance entailed. Since us Jedi had been dominant for some many centuries, did bringing the Force into balance involve the resurgence of darkness and evil? How could us Jedi be sure that balancing the Force was good anyway, even if Anakin was the Chosen One?

Those were answerless questions that I didn't wish to contemplate at the moment, however, and I was relieved when Qui-Gon's comlink buzzed, interrupting my musing. Mace Windu was contacting my Master to request our presence back in the Council chamber because they had reached a conclusion on the Anakin issue.

Within a few minutes' time, we were both standing in the middle of the Council chamber beside Anakin, who was trembling with excitement, terror, a chill resulting from his adaptation to a desert biome, or a combination of these factors. As Qui-Gon and I stepped into place beside the boy, the Council members traded significant looks, and then Master Yoda declared, "Finished we are with our examination of this boy. Correct you were, Qui-Gon."

I was still convinced that the Council wouldn't accept Anakin but I had to congratulate them on their tactful words. It was a brilliant idea to cushion the blow of a refusal with a compliment of sorts.

"His cells contain a very high concentration of midichorians," concurred Mace Windu, his smooth face inscrutable although there was the barest hint of an emphasis on the word "very."

"The Force is strong in him," put in Ki-Adi-Mundi.

I could sense Qui-Gon's surge of satisfaction upon hearing these words, his surge of vindication of his insistence on freeing Skywalker from his slave life and transporting him here. "He is to be trained then," he reasoned.

The uncomfortable silence that ensued proved my assumption accurate because it was obvious to even a gundark brain that the Council was striving to concoct a tactful way to disabuse my Master of this idea. In the end, Mace Windu must have tired of waiting for someone to burst Qui-Gon's bubble diplomatically, for he pronounced in a manner as bald as his head, "No, he will not be trained."

"No?" Qui-Gon echoed incredulously, and I could feel the cresting waves of his disbelief in the Force like a tsunami, yet I couldn't muster much sympathy because if he had listened to me, he wouldn't have been in this position.

"He is too old," explained Mace Windu, voicing aloud a conclusion I had reached back on Tatooine. "There is already too much anger in him."

"He is the Chosen One," Qui-Gon persisted vehemently. Cringing, I wished that he would let me handle the Unifying Force the way I allowed him to deal with all matters pertaining to the Living Force. If he had bothered to ask for my free advice, I could have told him that the prophecies he was referencing were as likely to come true as I was to become a diki bird. "You must see it."

"Clouded this boy's future is," negated Master Yoda, shaking his head. "Masked it is by his youth."

I watched as my Master scanned the faces of the other Council members but found no aid forthcoming. I held my breath, wondering what he would do next. To my surprise, he nodded as if he accepted their decision. However, my shock had barely mellowed into relief when he announced, "Very well. I will train him then. I take Anakin Skywalker as my Padawan apprentice."

Where in all the neighboring galaxies had that come from? Jedi were only permitted to have one apprentice at a time. That had been the custom since the Sith Wars…There was no way that he could believe that he could change a dictum as ancient as that one, which meant that he had selected one apprentice― Anakin.

He had shunted me aside in favor of a boy he had met a handful of days ago after we had spent years together, working to become a team. Yes, our relationship had at times been a tumultuous one given our strong wills and different philosophies, but we had learned to respect each other's inclinations for the most part. We had been through wars, challenging negotiations, and planetary and interplanetary disputes together. We had learned to depend on each other even if we disagreed. Our bond was as much of a friendship as it was a teacher-student relationship. How could he just abandon me like a diva would last season's shoes?

Had he been planning this from the time he had first encountered Anakin? Probably. He had even foreshadowed his intentions earlier with comments like "I will do what I must, Obi-Wan," and "You still have much to learn, my young Padawan." I hadn't understood the full implications of his words because I had never entertained the notion that I would be betrayed by him. Loyalty got you every time because it always rendered betrayal a total shock, which already put you at a disadvantage intellectually and emotionally.

Sure, he could claim that his abandonment had been nothing personal but that was a feeble excuse. It was as stupid as saying the same cliché before slaying someone. To the person who was about to be killed, it was undeniably personal. To the one who is wounded by another's cruelty, intentional or unintentional, it can't help but be personal.

Still reeling in horror, I glanced around the Council chamber and noticed that all of the Council members appeared scandalized. "An apprentice you have, Qui-Gon," Master Yoda pointed out after a taut pause. "Impossible to take a second."

"We forbid it," added Mace Windu darkly.

As I had suspected, Qui-Gon didn't dispute this. "Obi-Wan is ready―" he trailed off, shooting me a prodding glance.

White-hot ire seethed inside me for a moment. Ah, so I wasn't completely useless to him yet, no! First, I had to assist him in his dumping me so he could be Skywalker's Master instead. I had to be an instrumental party of my own betrayal. Well, if he'd rather be Skywalker's Master, I'd let him. I wouldn't seem weaker or more attached to Qui-Gon than he was to me. That would be too humiliating and pathetic.

"I am ready to face the trials," I informed the Council as firmly as I could, taking a step forward.

"Ready so early are you?" demanded Master Yoda caustically. "What know you of ready?"

All I knew was that if a young bird was thrown out of a nest, it would be foolish in the extreme not to attempt to fly. That was all I was really trying to do. However, I didn't dare to state as aloud and so I kept my mouth clamped shut.

"He is headstrong," Qui-Gon cut in, and I glared at him, thinking that this was akin to the Neimoidian accusing the Toyadarian of unscrupulous business policies, especially when he was engaged in his second battle of the day with the Council. He ignored me as he went on,"And he has much to learn, but he is capable, and there is little more that he will learn from me."

Once again, I glowered at him. If he really wanted to be able to train Anakin, he could have gone to the trouble of devising a more persuasive argument to rid himself of me. Granted, it would have been highly suspicious if he had praised me too highly when one didn't have to be Force-sensitive to sense the ever-growing animosity between us, but he could have done a better job of promoting me than that. It was a good thing that he hadn't pursued a career in the marketing industry, or he would have been living in the Blackpit Slums if he was lucky. Not that I cared about his well-being, of course.

"Our own counsel we will keep on who is ready," answered Yoda inexorably. "More to learn, he still has."

"Now is not the time for this," Mace Windu intervened crisply. "The Senate is voting on a new Supreme Chancellor, and Queen Amidala has decided to return home. That will put pressure on the Trade Federation."

"And could draw out the Queen's attacker." Master Yoda completed the thought, as I struggled to wrap my mind around the notion of a new Chancellor. The idea of returning to Naboo was also surprising and vexing because it made all of our efforts to outwit and outmaneuver the Trade Federation seem pointless, especially because Queen Amidala would be captured as soon as we arrived and forced to sign the treaty. We should have just stayed on Naboo and let the Queen be manipulated to sign the treaty. Then, we would never have met Anakin Skywalker, and all of this would never have happened.

"Go with the Queen to Naboo and discover the identity of this dark warrior," Mace Windu commanded, nodding in assent at Yoda's logic. "That is the clue we need to unravel this mystery of the Sith."

"Young Skywalker's fate will be decided later," Yoda concluded, obviously throwing a bone at my Master to convince him to head back to Naboo without any further debate. The odds definitely decreed that the Council would not change their minds on this crucial matter, but Qui-Gon would not defy the Council when it had agreed to postpone a decision as well.

"I brought Anakin here. He must stay in my charge― he has nowhere else to go," pressed Qui-Gon, and I had difficulty refraining from rolling my eyes in exasperation. Why couldn't he accept one gift without automatically pushing for another one?

"He is your ward, Qui-Gon," Mace Windu conceded on a sigh. "We will not dispute that."

That was almost exactly how I felt about Skywalker― I thought that it was fine that my Master had picked up the boy, but it would be much better for everyone involved if he just arranged for him to learn to be a pilot under the guidance of someone like Ric Olie, who, for some bizarre reason, was quite fond of Anakin. It was nice to know that someone was on the same wavelength with me, even if that being wasn't Qui-Gon.

"Train him not!" Yoda stipulated, his eyes expanding emphatically. "Take him with you, but train him not!"

"Protect the Queen, but do not intercede if it comes to war," concluded Master Windu. "May the Force be with you."

When Qui-Gon, Anakin, and I disembarked the air taxi onto the landing pad where the Queen, her cadre of handmaidens, and her personal security under the control of Captain Panaka would reconvene with us, and Anakin had dashed off to besiege the unfortunate Ric Olie with a million questions about starships and piloting, I eyed my Master carefully before asking as tactfully as I could, "Are you sure about this― taking the boy back to Naboo along with us?"

"Even the Council has agreed that he should accompany us, Obi-Wan," replied Qui-Gon with a hint of warning shading his tone that ordered me more clearly than words to relinquish the issue at once.

As he addressed me, however, his gaze did not rest on me. Rather, it settled on Anakin, ensuring that the lad didn't hear our exchange, because, after all, it would be so devastating to the former slave to learn that I disapproved of him given the intense bond we shared. Obviously, my Master was far more worried about wounding Anakin's tender feelings than he was about hurting mine.

Oops, I forgot. Just because I don't display my emotions on the sleeves of my robes, I logically must not have any, which justified dropping me in front of the Council faster than a life-long politician would a "friend" who had recently landed in a scandal. Such thoughts raged inside me, rendering me more contentious and rebellious than usual.

"Well, I don't," I mumbled mutinously, more to myself than to Qui-Gon. I only mumbled this sentiment because the Padawan habit of respectful compliance with even patently lunatic commands was still ingrained into the core of my being, even if I thought that, after the scene in the Council chamber, I was only his Padawan in the loosest, most technical sense of the word. We had no real Master-Padawan bond anymore.

"I'm afraid that the wind carried some of your words away from me. Would you care to repeat that previous remark, Padawan?" Abruptly, Qui-Gon's eyes shifted from Anakin to me, and, when they landed on me, they were like glass, and I found myself sliding off them into the kilometer wide and deep chasm that was now separating us. As he arched a coldly inquisitive eyebrow in my direction, I observed mentally that I had his attention now, although that might have been to my detriment since it was undeniably of the negative type.

The prudent strategy would have been to disavow commenting at all or to state that I had only uttered some acquiescence or other, ending the debate. Whoever claimed I was intelligent though? Certainly not me, I decided as whatever bold spirit had conquered my tongue reiterated, "I said 'Well, I don't'― agree that he should accompany us, that is."

"I wasn't aware that I requested your opinion on this matter, my _young _apprentice," he observed icily, his eyes contracting.

"Don't bother to apologize, Master, because I'm quite accustomed to the fact that my feelings don't matter by now so the fact that they don't in one more instance hardly impacts me at all." I couldn't suppress the sardonic words that boiled up inside me, nor could I prevent them form pouring bitterly out of my mouth, unfortunately with the net result of aggravating my Master further because that was just what I required more than anything at the moment, after all.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," Qui-Gon enunciated each word so frostily that I half-expected ice crystals to form on his beard, "I don't know where this new disrespectful attitude came from."

Here he paused as though awaiting a response from me, but what could I possibly answer to this? Should I say _Oh, yes, Master, I purchased this new disrespectful attitude at the mall the other day at an awesome 35 discount because it's all the rage among my peers, but I can always return it if you don't like it since I still have the receipt_? Or, _I'm sorry, Master, I woke up on the wrong side of the sleep coach today, but tomorrow morning I'll awaken on the right side even though there's a wall there_?

No, that was impertinent, and insolence was the crime he was accusing me of. Didn't that demonstrate his hypocrisy? Where else would I have learned it but from him, the infamous rogue Jedi? Honestly, what had he anticipated that I would do every time he argued with the edicts of the Council―plug my fingers in my ears, hum a jolly tune, and close my eyes, so that I would be blind and deaf to how he disagreed regularly with esteemed senior Council members Yoda and Mace Windu? Didn't he comprehend that pupils mimicked the behavior of their instructors? Didn't he see that if one chain was broken in a hierarchy, they al disintegrated? Couldn't he see that he had ruined the line of command when he defied the Council, so what right did he have to chastise me bending the strictures he had just shattered to smithereens?

Maybe he was waiting for me to apologize for my disrespect. Perhaps that was what a proper Padawan would do when his Master lectured him on impudence. I had no way of judging now because I had forgotten how to conduct myself as his proper Padawan when he had ceased acting like my Master.

When I remained silent, Qui Gon resumed, "Wherever it arose from is of no consequence, but it will stop now because it is childish and beneath you. Do you understand me?"

Without waiting for me to offer any form of affirmation, he pivoted and strode away from me. For a handful of seconds, I gaped after his retreating back, stunned. Never, after any debate, no matter how heated, had we separated in anger, and my Master's stiff shoulders revealed that he was still irritated with me. Worse still, we had resolved nothing. Anakin couldn't join us, not when I could sense menace emanating from him as clearly as his incredible Force connection. That showed it was too risky to train him. It was better not to teach someone with that much Force how to utilize it if there was a probability that his deficiency in early conditioning would make him susceptible to turning to the Dark Side. A body with that much power would spread mayhem throughout the entire galaxy if he was taught how to use the Force effectively and became an acolyte of the Dark Side. I had to convince my Master of this somehow.

"Master, can the boy please remain here?" I pleaded, hurrying after him.

"I've already decided that he is coming with us," Qui-Gon informed me tersely.

"He's dangerous," I insisted. "Don't take him with us, Master."

"Do not disrespect me by questioning my decisions, Padawan," he admonished me.

"It's not disrespect, Master, it's the truth," I countered, exasperated with his refusal to listen to me just because I was younger than him and had expressed an opinion that contradicted his own on Anakin, who was obviously far more worthy of being his apprentice than I was.

"From your point of view perhaps," dismissed Qui-Gon, and my frustration increased exponentially. Of course my view was misguided because it did not align with his, as were the perspectives of Mace Windu and Yoda since they resembled mine more than they did my Master's.

"The boy is dangerous," I maintained, struggling to keep my composure. I didn't want him to be able to brush off this exchange as the product of dealing with a moody apprentice. "They all sense it. Why can't you?"

I already knew the answer to that, though. His emotions were blinding him to the truth that we could all see. If he wasn't so attached to Anakin, he would be able to feel the menace that swarmed around him as well. His connection to the Force was certainly strong enough to ensure that much and more.

"His fate is uncertain, not dangerous," Qui-Gon corrected me, his voice containing a definite edge. "The Council will decide Anakin's future. That should be enough for you. Now get on board."

I met his gaze long enough to tell him non-verbally that I had spotted how he had evaded and deflected rather than answered my inquiries and that I knew he was pulling rank so that he wouldn't have to face anymore awkward questions that might force him to examine the notion that his personal emotions were hampering him from beholding Anakin's true future. Then, because our relationship hadn't deteriorated enough that I could summon the resolve to disobey a direct order, I spun on my heel and marched briskly up the ramp onto the Queen's ship.

I hoped that I would be able to stumble across the company of somebody who wasn't an egotist or a pathetic lifeform to keep me company on board or else it would be a very long trip back to Naboo.


	11. Chapter 11

The trip back to Naboo was too lengthy and stifled for my taste

Unexpected Alliances

The trip back to Naboo was too lengthy and stifled for my taste. Although the royal starship was undeniably one of the most comfortable and spacious vessels I had ever been transported across the galaxy by, that didn't prevent me from feeling imprisoned in it.

I couldn't spend any time in the cockpit, because Anakin remained there for just about all of his waking hours, except when he was in the galley, gobbling up canned and dried food that he classified as "delicious", something that indicated just how revolting the food that sustained slaves on Tatooine truly was. The sight of him made me want to punch someone, preferably him, so I delibately avoided him whenever possible, meaning that I basically stayed out of the cockpit.

I couldn't spend much time in any chamber with Qui-Gon in it, either. It wasn't that we exchanged hard words or swapped icy glares when we were in the same room. Rather, what rendered it so challenging to remain in a room with him was that neither of us addressed each other or even glanced at one another. I surmised that we were both afraid of the remarks that would spill out of our lips if we opened our mouths and afraid of the looks we would see in the other's eyes if we met their glance.

Therefore, we'd both find excuses to busy ourselves in other parts of the ship whenever the other entered a chamber we were in―it wasn't a non-verbal accord that we had reached, but merely a strategy we had both arrived at separately. After all, the very tension between us was rooted in the fact that we could no longer communicate effectively in verbal or non-verbal fashions.

Anyway, on the fourth day of our flight, because Qui-Gon was conversing with Captain Panaka and a pair of his security officers in the lounge, I was headed toward the male sleeping quarters to ensure that everybody had packed up all their belongings since we would be arriving in the Naboo atmosphere in about two hours.

When I entered our sleeping quarters, my spirits plummeted faster than a turbolift that had lost its anti-grav supports. The cause of my depression was the only other organism in the room: Jar Jar Binks. My spirits fell still further when I noted that he had an even more sheepish expression than was typical with him etched upon his features. I sincerely hoped that I would not have reason to learn of the cause of his chagrin, because whatever was responsible for his humiliation could not be a good thing.

"What are you doing here?" I scowled, checking under my sleep couch in case I had accidentally dropped something from my supply kit there. It would be most inconvenient if I went to grab for it in a sticky situation later on only to discover that it wasn't in my supply kit, but on a spaceship where it would be of no use whatsoever. Seeing that nothing was under the sleep couch, I pulled my head out from under it again.

As I popped my head under Qui-Gon's sleep couch, it occurred to me that Jar Jar had as much a right to be present as I did. Fortunately, I commented to myself, the Gungan was too stupid to realize this, a fact that was apparent when he replied with the shame carved into his tone, "Mesa was kicked outta de cockpit when mesa almost changed de coordinates wesa leave hyerspace on by acci-dente, or dat what de pilot shouted at mesa before hesa banished mesa. Mesa thought my be safe here. Mesa thought my no gettin' into trouble here."

When he offered this explanation, I rolled my eyes in exasperation with this pathetic lifeform, as I determined that my Master had left nothing under his sleep couch. That was a pity. If he had, I could make a number of snide remarks about it when I returned the misplaced item to Qui-Gon. Still, it was just as well that the temptation hadn't presented itself. After all, the gulf that existed between my Master and I really didn't require any further expansion, assuming that it could be widened at all.

"Yousa lookin' for something, Obi-One?" inquired Jar Jar. Without waiting for a response, he plunged on, his eagerness implying that we were lifelong buddies, "Mesa help yousa."

"Don't bother," I grumbled, thinking that Jar Jar would assist me when there was a blizzard on Tatooine. As I gritted this out, I leaned resignedly against Qui-Gon's sleep coach, deciding that I ought to cease searching for left-behind objects because the Gungan should not, under any circumstances, be permitted to look for lost items under sleep couches. The room would never be the same afterwards. Any piece of furniture he touched would end up collapsing, and Queen Amidala would not be happy that a Jedi had allowed such destruction to occur to her transport when he could have prevented it. With some beings, anything they touched was immediately transfigured into gold; with Jar Jar, anything he laid a finger upon was instantly transformed in a karking catastrophe. The creature was a walking disaster waiting to happen, and that was putting it mildly. "I'm not looking for anything."

A sharper being than Jar Jar would have made a caustic statement implicitly or explicitly questioning the sanity of someone who searched under furniture for no apparent reason, however, the Gungan seemed to accept my answer at face value, most likely because it was the sort of idiotic activity he would engage in himself. Therefore, he probably only deemed it as natural that I would do such a thing.

"Oh, mesa thought yousa might have lost something important to yousa," he observed, fiddling with his earflaps. "My was thinkin' maybe that was why yousa lookin' so upset the whole journey."

I was about to inform him that he couldn't have thought more wrong, but I stopped myself just in time when I recognized that he was correct. It was amazing how perceptive somebody who had checked out of Hotel Brainy eons ago could be. As much as I was loath to admit it, I had lost something important to me. Not a material thing, but an intellectual and an emotional thing infinitely more valuable. I had lost my bond with my Master.

How could Jar Jar have detected this? I wondered, stunned. We hadn't exactly been close, so how could have even noticed that something was troubling me? Granted, I had suspected that others on board the ship were aware of the coldness between my Master and I, but they weren't so dumb that they performed photosynthesis in the sunlight like Jar Jar did. Besides, everybody on board would have the sense to keep their mouths nailed shut about either of us acting "upset."

With Jar Jar, it was different. He hadn't mastered this little thing called tact that the rest of us had. Since he saw no reason to conceal his emotions, it never entered his mind, if one could call it a mind, that others might not wish to be so open. For some reason, it touched me that this creature would detect my shift in mood at all, and that he would care enough to mention it when I had been awful to him. Qui-Gon was right: I did have much to learn about the Living Force. However, it wasn't him that showed me its secrets― it was Jar Jar. Someone who had gargled from the fountain of knowledge when the rest of us had drunken had actually taught me something about opening up my heart. The end of the galaxy was definitely nigh, but I would enjoy my newfound wisdom as long as possible.

"Perhaps I'm just stressed out because, like everybody else, I'm worried about what will transpire when we arrive on Naboo," I answered being careful not to lie since Jedi did not tell falsehoods, but studiously avoiding revealing my true feelings. After all, I didn't want to discuss any problems with my Master with anyone. It was too private. Besides, I was nervous about what would happen to the Queen once we arrived on Naboo. Since we only had the authority to protect the Queen, she would soon be taken into custody and compelled to sign an unjust treaty. Even if we had been able to fight a war for her, we would have been as useful as grave robbers in a crematorium against all those Federation battle droids, so what was Queen Amidala possibly thinking by traveling back to Naboo? Sure, the Senate and the courts would probably not have done anything, but at least the Trade Federation would not gain the legal advantage as they would now, once the Queen had been coerced into signing the treaty…

Trying to take my mind off such depressing notions, I added, "I've been a real jerk to you, haven't I, Jar Jar?"

"Uh-huh," Jar Jar affirmed bluntly, bobbing his head as his ears flopped in excitement.

"And yet you still cared that I was upset?" I pressed.

"Uh-huh." Jar Jar gave another nod of confirmation.

"Why?" I inquired, genuinely intrigued. Few beings in the galaxy would have cared about the well-being of somebody who had made a point of snubbing them whenever possible, and I wanted to see the brighter side of sentients for a change. More often than not, my missions exposed me to the harshness of life, but there was a lighter side to it, and I wished to spot it again, if only for a brief interlude before I was embroiled in warfare again.

"Because mesa always bein' yelled at, and my knowin' how it feels to be hurtin'. Mesa no wantin' others to go through that," faltered the Gungan, shrugging as he struggled to find words to explain his morals. "Mesa wantin' to be kind, not cruel, to everyone."

As I listened to his logic, shame swept over me with the strength of a hurricane. It struck me then that he was aware of his clumsiness, of his mental slowness, of his forgetfulness, and of his many ineptitudes. He didn't need me or anyone else, for that matter, to hammer them into his head. Actually, he would have benefited from just the opposite. He would have appreciated nothing more than being treated with dignity and charity. Who was I to judge him anyway? Didn't I have enough faults of my own that I could be improving in the time I had squandered passing judgment upon him and his inadequacies?

Besides, he wasn't so horrible, not really. Yes, he was so dumb that a mind reader would have given him a fifty-percent discount, one of the most ungainly organisms in the galaxy, and so absentminded that he probably had difficulty recalling his name, but these weren't really crimes. After all, Neimoidians were nothing if not clever, they never blundered into dangerous surroundings since they valued caution above all else, and they never forgot a slight, but what profit was that to the rest of the galactic population? Not much. Neimoidians had exploited countless worlds to earn more money in the trade of lucrative ores and gems, and they had destroyed the lives of the peaceful inhabitants of Naboo for the sake of attaining more credits. They used their gifts to the detriment of others, whereas Jar Jar strove to aid others, despite his own handicaps. It didn't take a genius to spot who was superior, and I was all the dumber for not seeing the truth sooner.

For all his flaws, Jar Jar had never sunk to the level of intentional cruelty, which was, I saw suddenly, the gravest crime of all. The Trade Federation was guilty of it, obviously. As much as it discomfited me to confess it, even to myself― no, especially to myself―I had committed the unforgiveable offense of deliberate cruelty. And my Master―had he been guilty of deliberate cruelty to me?

No, I decided after a moment's intense contemplation. I was familiar with Qui-Gon's shortcomings, and, if anything, he was guilty of excessive compassion. He loved me like a son, and Hoth would become a world renowned for its tropical resorts before he betrayed me. Therefore, he had honestly deemed that I was prepared to be a Knight, despite my flaws. He had faith in me― and I hadn't trusted him.

Trust was the cornerstone of the bond between a Master and a Padawan, yet throughout the Naboo mission I had refused to have faith in Qui-Gon's judgment from traveling through the core, to rescuing and relying upon Jar Jar, to the Podrace, and to the Skywalker affair. Was it any wonder that our relationship had crumbled around us when I did not trust him?

Hadn't my worries been largely unfounded, anyhow? Hadn't we survived the monsters of the core? Hadn't Jar Jar been the cause of my epiphany, which meant that soon snow would fall on Tatooine to the delight of the moisture farmers? And hadn't Anakin not only lived through and won the Podrace, despite odds staked against him that were so long even a Corellian wouldn't have wagered in his favor?

Yes, my Master's instincts were generally correct, and he was far more connected with the currents of the Living Force than I ever would be. Was it really so hard to believe that Anakin might be the Chosen One, who needed to be trained, as Qui-Gon had contended?

Not really, I conceded after some inner turmoil. After all, the boy did have a skyscraper high midichlorian count, and I couldn't deny the air of destiny that surrounded him like electrons circled the nucleus of an atom. There was something special about the lad, and who was I to claim that he wouldn't be the one to bring balance to the Force?

I would take my Master's word in this, because I did have faith in him. If he was wrong, then, as Master Yoda would establish, "We guessed. We dared. Wrong or right, who knows? Sometimes wrong and right only have meaning in small time. In big time, in decades, in centuries, then we see that things are as they are. Each choice, the branch of a tree is: what looked like a decision, is after only a pattern of growth. Each act is a fossil, preserved in the Force for eternity." So, I would trust in my Master's decision pertaining to Anakin, and if I was naturally a cynic who was slow to have faith in anyone and slow to spot the truth when it was simple, then that made my sacrifice all the greater, and my gift all the more special.

"Obi-One?" asked Jar Jar, looking confused and concerned, when I had remained silent for too long. "Yousa sick or somethin'?"

"No." I actually grinned at him to his shock. I would have to find the time to speak with my Master and to recover the bond we shared, but first I had to do something with Jar Jar. I had to teach him something, because if I could give him some knowledge as well then I would feel less stupid. "Have you ever played dejarick?"

"Nah," Jar Jar pouted, resembling a petulant child. "Nobody likes to play games with mesa. Theysa say my too clumsy."

"Would you like me to show you how to play?" Already anticipating the answer to my inquiry, I reached into the nightstand drawer, where a stack of playing cards was stored, withdrew the cards, and began shuffling them.

"Uh-huh." Jar Jar bobbed his head exuberantly, his face brightening.

"Well, it's a pretty basic game to understand, even if it is sometimes challenging to play," I started. An hour later, after I had explained how to play dejarick and after I had permitted him to win his first game, although I had attempted not to be obvious about it, one of Captain Panaka's sentries entered the room.

"Good. There you two are," announced the guard, as Jar Jar and I both glanced up at him. "The Queen wants to see you both in her chambers."

"Shesa wants to see mesa?" echoed Jar Jar, who appeared terrified at this notion. As I was equally astonished that Queen Amidala would be interested in the advice of a bumbling Gungan, I could offer him no reassurance or encouragement.

"Yes," the Naboo officer reiterated irascibly. "The Queen wishes to see you both immediately, and I would suggest that you don't keep her waiting."

"Come on. We don't want to end up in the underbelly of the ship or something for refusing a royal command," I mumbled to Jar Jar, grabbing his arm, and tugging him to his feet as I rose myself. Luckily, Jar Jar began to regain his senses while we followed the security officer down the corridor to the Queen's chambers, and, by the time we had reached our destination, he had his normal friendly but faintly bemused expression latched back on his face.

When we arrived in the Queen's chambers, I saw that Captain Panaka, all of the security guards under his command, Eritae, Padme, and Rabe were all arrayed around their monarch. Qui-Gon was not present, but no doubt he would be here soon, I thought as I reclined against the wall along with Jar Jar, so that the fact that he was cringing against it in the vain hope that this would make him disappear would be less apparent. I had barely adopted this pose when the door opened, and Qui-Gon came in.

Figuring that now was as fitting a time as any to start to make amends, I nodded at him as he entered, meeting his eyes for the first time since we had argued on Coruscant. As he nodded back and moved to stand beside the glowering Captain Panaka, Queen Amidala raised her composed white-painted face, her gaze cool, but a fire present in her words as she declared, "When we land on Naboo, it is my intention to act on this invasion at once. My people have suffered enough."

"When we land, Your Highness, the Trade Federation will arrest you and force you to sign their treaty!" interjected Captain Panaka, his eyes snapping. Personally, I had to agree with his grim assessment. There was no way that the Queen would be able to evade the Trade Federation. Coming back here had murdered her people's cause. She could choose to ignore that fact if she desired to, but that didn't make Panaka's statement any less valid. Still, I hoped that Eritae's assertion that Queen Amidala appreciated boldness from those in her service was accurate. After all, it would be tragic if Captain Panaka were to be executed for being insubordinate to his ruler before we all landed on Naboo and met our end together against the Trade Federation, which would be what would occur if the headstrong Queen refused to surrender to the merchant guild.

"I agree." My Master nodded in confirmation of Captain Panaka's reasoning, shooting the Queen a curious look. "I'm not sure what you hope to accomplish by this."

Apparently she wanted us all to perish at the hands of the Trade Federation, I observed inwardly, while the Queen responded, her features as smooth as though they had been carved from stone, "The Naboo are going to take back what is ours."

That was a nice idealistic goal that sounded glorious aloud, I noted to myself, but it needed a lot of fleshing out to make it feasible. Therefore, unless the Queen had a very detailed strategy to implement in order to attain her objective, it would be best if we retreated to Coruscant now, where she could continue to fight for her people's rights in the Galactic Senate. Naboo's salvation was more likely to lie in a war of words than in a war of weapons.

"There are only twelve of us― we have no army!" barked the pragmatic Captain Panaka, throwing both etiquette and restraint to the winds in his determination to convince his Queen to see the unpleasant reality that we were all trapped inside. Perhaps realizing how impertinent he sounded, he amended in a belated attempt at politeness, "Your Highness."

Queen Amidala did not reply. Instead, her gaze shifted until it settled upon my Master, who commented gently, "The Jedi cannot fight a war for you, Your Highness. We can only protect you."

Worse still, we could only protect her for a limited time before we were crushed under the sheer numbers of Trade Federation battle droids. The best we could buy her was time to flee. Even if she fled, though, it wouldn't be much of a benefit to her or the Naboo. Eventually, the Trade Federation would track her down and compel her to sign the treaty. In the long view, there was little us Jedi could do for her. If she had been depending on us for a miracle, her hopes were going to be destroyed.

However, the Queen did not deflate when Qui-Gon established as much. Instead, her eyes drifted again until she was regarding the Gungan beside me, who was currently scrutinizing his toes as though confident that they contained the secret to the most confunding enigmas of life.

"Jar Jar Binks!" she called.

"Mesa, Yousa Highness?" stuttered Jar Jar, jumping into the air in astonishment at being directly addressed. He wasn't the only one who was amazed, for I found myself staring at him, and I noticed out of the corner of my eye that the rest of the congregation was gaping at the Gungan, too. Simply put, everyone was wondering what function this child-like creature could possibly be to an exiled queen of a ravaged planet.

"Yes," Queen Amidala affirmed in such a firm manner that everybody's eyes riveted upon her instead, anxious to hear what purpose she had planned for Jar Jar. "I have need of your help."

"My help?" stammered Jar Jar, his bulbous eyes widening to the point where they risked popping all over me.

"Yes, Jar Jar Binks, I require your assistance," she recapped formally. "Since you are a Gungan, we hope that you can serve as an emissary for us. That is, we hope that you'll be willing to lead us to your people so that we can forge an alliance with them. You have explained to me that your people have a powerful and well-trained army. We hope to convince them to utilize it to liberate our mutual homeworld from the Trade Federation invaders. Too long our two magnificent civilizations had held each other in contempt, although we could have learned much from each other. It is our hope to reverse that and create strong ties of friendship between us."

"Mesa be happy to help yousa even though my have been banished," Jar Jar pronounced, straightening himself in a feeble attempt to mimic her authoritative manner.

"Thank you." Queen Amidala's features softened into a smile that could have been constituted as genuine if she hadn't been a politician, who was accustomed to lying as often as she drew breath. "My people and I are most appreciative of your aid, and we will repay our debt to you."

At this point, any semblance of articulation left Jar Jar, but, fortunately, the Queen did not anticipate much of a response, for she merely concluded the meeting without waiting for the Gungan to answer.

Not long after the meeting had terminated, we returned to sublight speeds as we reentered Naboo's atmosphere. Initially, I was surprised when I checked out the viewport and saw no blockade restricting access to the planet. Then, I realized that there was no point in maintaining a blockade when the citizens of the world were all locked up in camps, and nobody in their right mind would want to visit a planet that had been conquered by the ruthless Trade Federation.

Since there was no navy to impede our progress this time, we were able to land easily in the swamplands where Jar Jar insisted that the Gungans could be found. As soon as we had landed and Jar Jar had embarked to meet with the Gungans, I went searching for Qui-Gon.

Given the mathematical laws that governed probability in this particular universe, it was extremely likely that we would soon be entangled in another war, and I wanted to speak with him during this lull in the action while I had the opportunity to do so. It was best not to put off until tomorrow that which could be accomplished today, especially when I might lose my courage if I waited.

Luckily, finding Qui-Gon was not too much of a challenge since the coming conversation would be difficult enough. Within a few minutes time, I came upon him standing by the banks of the lake in which Otoh Gunga occupied the depths. Although I was positive that he could sense my presence in the Force, he did not spin around to regard me as I approached him, but rather kept staring out over the swamp, as though he expected the Gungan chieftains to emerge from its fathoms at any second.

"Jar Jar is on his way to the Gungan city, Master," I educated him hesitantly. Then, I winced at the inanity of my own comment. Well, Siri had always insisted that I had a horrible tendency of stating the obvious, and it was clear from the way that he was gazing into the swamp that Qui-Gon was aware that Jar Jar had headed off to Otoh Gunga.

"Good." Qui-Gon nodded absently, still not looking at me, and I sighed, wishing he would at least try to hold up his end of the exchange. After all, it wasn't even that heavy, so he had no excuse.

"Do you think that the Queen's idea will work?" I tried again, wishing I had bothered with perfecting the delicate art of small talk, but, no, I had to be the socially awkward person who preferred the solitude of my own thoughts to the company of others, which really meant that I would have benefited more from mastering the art of small talk than an extrovert like Siri would have. If I ever found free time, I would make a point of working on that…

"The Gungans will not be easily swayed," Qui-Gon replied. Finally, he turned to face me, but when he did so, I immediately wished that he hadn't, for the pointed glance he fixed on me indicated that he deemed me as difficult to sway as well. I averted my gaze, thinking that I was skeptical, but once I was convinced that a position was the proper one to adapt, I was devoted to seeing it through to completion. "And we cannot use our powers to help her."

Silence fell between us again, and I hesitated, striving to devise a manner in which to voice the emotions that were spiraling around inside my head. How could I explain that I had an epiphany during our voyage― that I had realized that Anakin might indeed be the Chosen One and should be trained, that I appreciated the fact that he thought I was ready for the trials, and that I was sorry for not trusting him. As I struggled to find words that Basic didn't seem to have to describe my thoughts and feelings, I stared at the sleeves of my robes, noticing that they were really far more fascinating than I had remembered. Why had I never recognized how interesting my sleeves were? That would probably be because my clothing wasn't intriguing, and I was just stalling, but I couldn't do so forever. Soon, I'd have to fight a war, after all, so I really did have to get this over with.

"I-I'm sorry for my behavior, Master," I stated at last. "It's not my place to disagree with you about the boy, and…I am grateful that you think I am ready for the trials."

Well, that was not the most eloquent apology in the history of civilization, but it wasn't the lamest one, either, so I'd settle for it. Apparently, Qui-Gon was willing to accept it as well, because, after studying me for a moment, he smiled and answered warmly, "You have been a good apprentice. You are a much wiser man than I am, Obi-Wan. I foresee that you will become a great Jedi."

As far as I was concerned, this probably wasn't true, since I had spent most of the day feeling stupid. Possibly, being aware of one's own ignorance was the start of the path to wisdom, though, but I still didn't think that I was ever going to surpass my Master. However, it was nice of him to say so. It made me feel a little less foolish, at any rate.

"If I do, it will be because of what you have taught me," I responded to this most likely biased analysis, and, as quickly as that, the rift between us was sealed again.


	12. Chapter 12

Author's Note: This definitely isn't one of my favorite chapters so far, but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway

Author's Note: This definitely isn't one of my favorite chapters so far, but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway.

Reviews: Reviewers get free lightsabers while supplies last. Reviewers will also get to choose which company the U.S. government gets to bail out next in an attempt to keep us out of a second Great Depression. Just kidding. (The scary thing is how quickly our teachers have changed their tune about stuff. Before the stock market plummeted, they were all like "Oh, no, there could never be another Great Depression since our government took so many steps after that to prevent such an occurrence," and now they're basically warning us that we're going into another one with most of Europe and parts of Asia falling down with us. This is great. I want Jedi to rescue us.)

Battle Plans

Before either of us could comment further, the stagnant surface of the swamp bubbled briefly, and, a moment later, Jar Jar burst out of the filthy water. As he shook the muddy liquid off his amphibious skin, everyone hurried over to him to hear the news he bore. Once Captain Panaka, the security force he controlled, Ric Olie, young Skywalker, the Queen and her handmaidens, all of whom had donned more functional trousers, tunics, and boots, had clustered around him, Jar Jar announced, "Daresa nobody dare. All gone. Some kinda fight, mesa tink."

When I heard this update, I frowned. Could the Trade Federation have discovered the Gungans and conquered them as well? If the Gungans were warriors like the Queen claimed, then they would have fought the invaders until the bitter end, and the Gungans' primitive electropoles would be as much use as a trapdoor on a lifeboat against the droid armies of the merciless Trade Federation. If there was no one in the Gungan city, then…

"Do you think they have been taken to the camps?" Captain Panaka demanded anxiously, interrupting my charming and comforting syllogism.

"More likely they've all been wiped out," I countered. I was unable to prevent my disdain at the brutal tactics of the Trade Federation from seeping into my tone even if Jedi were supposed to be unbiased. Well, we were also intended to promote justice and keep the peace, and there was nothing fair or peaceful about genocide. These Federation leaders were so twisted that they made a turnabout seem straight in comparison.

"Mesa no tink so," stated Jar Jar with more authority evident in his manner than I had ever witnessed before, responding before Panaka could reply to my remark. Not very long ago, I would have observed to myself that he did not think much about anything so this was hardly a surprise, but I was more tolerant of this excitable creature now. After all, he had taught me something once, which suggested that he might be capable of doing so a second time if I maintained an open mind and heart. Glancing around at the rest of the assembly congregated about the bank of the swamp, I noticed that I was not the only one attending to every word that sailed out of the Gungan's lips as he continued, "Gungans hidden. When in trouble, go to sacred place. Mackineeks no find dem dare."

"Do you know where they are?" my Master voiced the inquiry that was doubtlessly traveling toward everybody's lips as fast as neurons could carry it.

Jar Jar bobbed his head in affirmation. Without any further comment, he set off into the swamp. When the rest of us glanced inquisitively at Queen Amidala, she jerked her head in the Gungan's direction, indicating that we should follow him, so we all sloshed through the swamp after Jar Jar.

As I waded my way through the muddy quagmire alongside Qui-Gon, I thought that it was wonderful to be slogging through Naboo's swamps yet again. After all, I really had gotten much too clean after my last foray into the wetlands of Naboo. Still, as lovely as stroll as this was, I hoped that it would terminate soon since we really didn't have all the much time remaining before the Federation discovered our whereabouts and dispatched a battalion of droids to destroy the threat we represented.

Despite my wishes, though, we traversed through the swamplands for some time before we finally emerged in a clearing of marshy grasses and stands of trees with roots so thickly tangled that they formed what appeared to be an impregnable barrier. Here, Jar Jar halted abruptly, sniffed the air like a Kubaz, nodded, and declared, "Dissen it."

Then, he tilted his head toward the heavens that could barely be discerned through the heavy canopy and emitted a peculiar chittering noise from his billed mouth that echoed eerily in the silent surroundings. Figuring that he had just signaled to Gungan sentries, we all waited quietly, our eyes scanning the mist for any trace of approaching Gungans.

A hedge rustled to our right, and Captain Tarpals and a scouting party of Gungans astride kaadu rode out of the haze, electropoles and energy spears poised for action. Reflexively, my hand flew to my lightsaber hilt, preparing to withdraw my weapon in a second's time if it became necessary to shield myself and my companions. However, Qui-Gon caught my eye and shook his head, and my hand drifted away from my lightsaber once again in compliance.

I wasn't the only one who grasped my weapon when the Gungans had arrived, ready to fight. Captain Panaka, the other security gaurds, Eritae, and Rabe all fingered their guns. Young Skywalker stiffened, obviously preparing himself for another beating in a lifetime of them. Only the Queen and her favorite handmaiden, Padme, remained impassive despite the menace embodied in Captain Tarpals and his squadron. Actually, that wasn't precisely factual, for Jar Jar, too, appeared unfazed.

"Heyday ho, Cap'n Tarpals." Jar Jar greeted the scowling military commander with a cheery wave, displaying the joviality that only a being whose turbolift did not reach the higher levels could show in such perilous circumstances. Whether such foolhardiness was a boon or a liability was a matter of debate among my multiple personalities.

"Binks," growled Captain Tarpals. "Notta gain."

"We came ta see da Boss," Jar Jar educated him with childlike nonchalance.

"Ouch time, Binks." Captain Tarpals' glower expanded to encompass the rest of our ragtag militia as I noted disconcertedly to myself that "ouch time" probably pertained to some unpleasant type of execution― not that any method of execution was particularly enjoyable. Not to the organism whose life was being snipped off, anyway. To many beings, watching another organism be executed was a marvelous source of entertainment, a fact that revealed that a majority of the galactic population was indeed sadistic. "Ouch time for all of yousa mebbe."

Wonderful. We were all going to be executed. Words simply couldn't describe how brilliantly Queen Amidala's plan was progressing. Well, at least we could perish with the consolation that we had made the lives of the Neimoidians who ran the Trade Federation just a tad bit easier since they didn't have to order droids to track and murder us now. The Gungans would be certain to render such an endeavor futile.

The Gungans herded us together and then, serving as a perimeter escort on all sides, led us ever deeper into the wetlands. As we trudged through the ankle-high mud, the canopy created by the trees became so dense that the sky and the sun disappeared entirely. Perhaps two or three minutes into our march, pieces of statues began to surface, crumbling stone façades and plinths sinking into the mire. Vines snaked their path across the broken remnants, dropping down from limbs that twirled and wound together in vast wooden nets.

After shoving through a stand of towering saw grass, we arrived in a clearing teeming with Gungan refugees― men, women, and children of every age and description huddled together on a broad, dry rise, many with their possessions piled around them. Tarpals led us past the gawking hordes to where the ruins of what must have once been a grand temple were being slowly and inexorably reclaimed by the swamp.

Of the once proud and mighty temple, only the platforms and the stairs were intact. The columns and ceilings had long ago collapsed, and the massive heads and arms of the stone statues poked out of the quagmire with their fingers clutching weapons as they stared sightlessly into space.

At the far end of the ruins, Boss Nass appeared, lumbering out of the shadows with several members of the Gungan council in tow to stand haughtily upon the marble head of a statue partially submerged in the dirty water. As he adopted this pose, our delegation came within hailing distance of the obese Gungan, whom, I was delighted to discover, seemed to have grown another two chins since I had met him last.

"Jar Jar Binks, whadda yousa doen back?" Boss Nass rumbled as soon as we were within ear shot. "Yousa supposed to take dese outlanders." He waved a wrathful hand the size of a dinner tray at my Master and me before ranting on. "Who yousa bring to da Gungan sacred place?"

Before Jar Jar could answer, Queen Amidala strode forward, her white face lifting to regard the Gungan chief with a proud defiance. "I am Amidala, Queen of the Naboo."

"Naboo!" Boss Nass thundered, spraying spittle everywhere, his tone implying that the people he referenced were a contagious fatal ailment. "No like da Nabooo! Yousa bring da maccaneks! Dey bust up our homes! Dey drive us all out!" A flabby arm rose to jab accusingly at the Queen. "Yousa all bombad! Yousa all die, mebbe."

At his words, the Gungans guards edged forward, electropoles upraised. Remembering Qui-Gon's earlier direction, I didn't permit my hand to travel to the hilt of my lightsaber even though the Naboo security officers all clenched their blasters.

Although Queen Amidala seemed as discomfited as her security officers and her handmaidens, she persisted resolutely, "We wish to form an alliance―"

"Your Honor!" A clear voice pierced through the air. Shocked and curious to learn who would have the temerity to interrupt the Queen, I pivoted and spotted Padme walking briskly to stand before her Queen. Had she come so late the day that brains were distributed that she only received a rain check? I wondered as I gaped at this pretty young woman. Sure, she might have blackmail upon Queen Amidala and have Naboo's monarch tied to her purse strings, but that didn't mean that she could interrupt her Queen in public. There were still rules of etiquette that could not be breached even by the true powers behind thrones, and she would do well to learn this if she valued her life.

Boss Nass was just as astonished by Padme's audacity, a fact that was obvious when he demanded, "Whosa dis?"

"I am Queen Amidala," she explained, drawing herself up with the dignity only a lunatic could demonstrate in such a situation. As I decided that she could at least plead mental instability at her trial, she nodded at the regally attired young woman behind her and clarified, "This is Sabe, my decoy, my protection, my loyal bodyguard."

At this revelation, my mouth dropped slightly. The woman who I had believed was the Queen was nothing more than a handmaiden, and the girl who I had imagined was the Queen's favorite was in fact the ruler of the Naboo. Now that I contemplated the matter, I realized that the warranty on my brain must have run out if I had not reached this conclusion prior to this moment. After all, Eritae had dropped a major hint when she had remarked that Padme was essentially the Queen's alter ego.

I hadn't examined the full meaning of her words because I had been convinced that Queen Amidala was accepting bribes or blackmail from the other young woman. Well, I had been wrong, which just displayed how preconceptions could blind a body. The Queen had not been guilty of the crimes I had envisioned that she was, although she was probably guilty of a hundred other vices. After all, politics and morals were mutually exclusive concepts, though politics and hypocrisy were inseparable.

While I struggled to recover from my astonishment, the real Queen Amidala shifted her eyes to focus on Qui-Gon and me for a second. "Gentlemen, I apologize for misleading you."

Then, her gaze quickly riveted upon Boss Nass once more. "Although our people do not always agree, Your Honor, we have always lived in peace until now. The Trade Federation has destroyed all that we have worked so hard to build. The Gungans are in hiding, and the Naboo have been imprisoned in camps. If we do not act immediately, all that we value will be lost forever."

On a whole, I deemed her words as reasonably eloquent and inspiring, but Boss Nass was unswayed by her passion if his stony features were any indicator.

"I ask you to help us, Your Honor." Queen Amidala dropped to her knees in front of the Gungan head of state, ignoring the audible gasps from the rest of the Naboo. As I marveled at the grandeur of this woman, a queen so majestic that she could kneel before another and only increase her dignity, she added to Boss Nass and his advisors, "We are your humble servants. Our fate is in your hands."

She motioned for her subjects to kneel as well, and, one by one, the Naboo guards, the handmaidens, Panaka, and Ric Olie fell to their knees behind her. I shot Qui-Gon an inquiring glance, wondering if I really had to pay homage to a rotund isolationist. When my Master offered me a slight nod in response, I dropped to one knee as he did the same.

As I knelt, I chided myself for my reluctance. After all, Queen Amidala was willing to kneel in the mud, surrendering any semblance of pride because there was a possibility that such an action might be a salvation for her people. If she could behave in such a noble manner, I could not do anything less. There was no way that a Jedi could allow himself or herself to be less self-sacrificing than a politician.

For a long moment, nobody said anything while Boss Nass studied all of us petitioners. Then, he chortled, "Yousa no tinken yousa greater dan da Gungans! Mesa like dis. Mebbe wesa being friends."

Grinning at our triumph, I rose with the others. As I stood, I recognized that Boss Nass had only wanted to be treated with respect by the humans who had colonized his world a century ago. Suddenly, I was reminded of how my Dresselian buddy Reeft would bemoan that humans were the most arrogant species in the entire galaxy. Perhaps Boss Nass harbored similar resentful sentiments against us, which was why he required the Queen to bow before him, thereby acceding that she was his equal at least. Only when she and the rest of us had humbled ourselves before him, he had capitulated to Amidala's request.

We rapidly discovered that Boss Nass was as mercurial as he was meaty, and his change of attitude was dramatic, suggesting that he might be afflicted with bipolar disorder. Once he judged that Queen Amidala did not constitute herself as his superior, and that she was in fact sincere in her imploring for Gungan aid, he broke landspeed records when he came around in his thinking.

Privately, I also thought that his detestation of battle droids did not hurt matters. Also, the fact that he had perhaps been a tad hasty in his assertion that the "maccaneks" wouldn't bother the Gungans functioned in our favor, since we head that Otoh Gunga had been attacked two days previously, which was when its inhabitants had been forced to flee their home. As plump and unfit as he was, Boss Nass would not sit motionless for that. If a plan could be devised to drive the intruders out, the Gungan army would do its part to help.

Therefore, he took Qui-Gon, young Skywalker, the Naboo, and I out of the swamplands to the fringes of the grass plains that spanned south to Theed. Any attack could be mounted from here, and it transpired that the Queen had appealed to the Gungans with a very specific battle plan in her stubborn mind.

The first step involved dispatching Captain Panaka on a covert mission into the city to gain reconnaissance on the adversary there.

Three hours after he had departed for Theed, Captain Panaka returned, and Qui-Gon, Queen Amidala, Boss Nass, several Gungan generals, and I clustered around him, eager to listen to his update so we could concoct a final strategy.

"What is the situation?" Queen Amidala asked her captain of security crisply, speaking for all of us assembled around him.

"Almost everyone is in camps," Panaka educated her, his terseness concealing his anguish at the condition his fellow citizens were in. "A few hundred police and guards have formed an underground resistance. I brought back as many of the leaders as I could. The Federation's army is much larger and much stronger than we had hoped." His dark eyes locked soberly on the Queen's as he established grimly, "Your Highness, this is a battle I do not think that we can win."

"The battle is a diversion." Queen Amidala smiled faintly. "The Gungans will draw the droid army away from the cities. We can enter Theed using the secret passages on the waterfall side. Once we get to the main entrance of the palace, Captain Panaka will create a diversion so that we can enter the palace and capture the viceroy. Without him, they will be lost and confused."

Hearing her plan, I determined that it was not the worst one I had ever listened to, but it wasn't the greatest either. After all, everything depended upon capturing the viceroy, who would be well-protected even if most of the troops marched out to combat the Gungans. As I observed this, Queen Amidala whirled about to regard my Master and I, inquiring, "What do you think, Master Jedi?"

"The viceroy will be well-guarded," Qui-Gon pointed out, stating aloud my own fear.

"The difficulty will be getting into the throne room," dismissed Captain Panaka. "Once we're inside, we shouldn't have a problem."

I wasn't certain that I believed this assessment, but Qui-Gon obviously found it acceptable, for, changing tracks, he noted to Boss Nass, "Many Gungans may be killed."

"Wesa ready to do oursa part," declared Boss Nass, banging his beefy hand against the rolls of flesh encircling his chest.

"We will send what pilots we have to knock out the Droid Control Ship that is orbiting the planet," the Queen vowed, her voice softening a fraction, although the blaze in her eyes burned on undimmed. Apparently, it would take more than the Trade Federation army to extinguish the fire in her. Few people had her resilience, and I wondered why she had wasted her spirit in politics. Politics was a gigantic waste of time, and those who participated in it ended up squandering their whole existences in committee and sub-committee hearings that never accomplished anything. "If we can get past their ray shields, we can sever their communications, and the droids will be helpless."

"A well-conceived plan," my Master allowed, bobbing his head in understanding. I wasn't sure I agreed with this analysis. There was always the chance that the fighters' weapons would not penetrate the shields on the Control Ship, permitting the viceroy to flee. If the viceroy escaped, then he would return with another droid army to crush the Naboo and the Gungans into submission. I was trying to invent a tactful way of expressing this when Qui-Gon amended, "However, there is a considerable risk. The weapons on your fighters may not penetrate the shields on the Control Ship."

When he didn't continue, I expounded upon this, grateful for the opening, "And if the viceroy escapes, he will return with another droid army." I figured that I didn't have to spell out for her the implications of that since she appeared to be one of the few sentients in the galaxy who possessed an adequate brain, even if she had been dumb enough to pursue a career in politics.

"That's why we must not fail to get the viceroy," Queen Amidala clinched, sticking out her chin so that I could see that she comprehended well enough the horrors that would unfold if the Trade Federation returned with another, probably larger, army. "Everything depends upon it."

As she asserted as much, a shiver swept up and down the length of my spinal cord. I was not the sort of person who enjoyed taking risks or placing all my hawk-bat eggs in one basket. Yet, as Qui-Gon would argue, the most spectacular feats were often achieved by those who dared to defy fate and the laws of probability and take the greatest risks. At any rate, tomorrow I would uncover if this was indeed the case. Tomorrow, at dawn, the battle would commence and the moment of truth would be upon us all.


	13. Chapter 13

Reviews: Review or I'll have Darth Maul come after you with his dual-bladed lightsaber. (Interesting fun fact: I am actually Darth Sidious. Emperor Palpatine is really just my public scapegoat. Don't tell any Jedi, though, because my lightsaber skills aren't what they once were.)

Author's Note: I seriously did my best with the final lightsaber battle, but action sequences aren't exactly my strength, so you have my sincere apologies if it isn't the best. I try my best but I don't always succeed. Sometimes I even fail.

By the way, I really do think that Obi-Wan confronted his own Dark Side when he was fighting Maul, so that's why I wrote the scene that way. I don't believe that he killed Maul in anger, though, but that's next chapter.

Warfare

At dawn, it began. At dawn, we were all born again in the fire. At least, those of us who survived were. The rest were consumed― roasted alive― by the blaze. As day broke after a tense night of fitful slumber for both the Naboo and the Gungans, the Gungan army started its march across the open fields to Theed.

Not long after the Gungans had marched off to combat the Trade Federation droids, Qui-Gon and I rendezvoused with Queen Amidala, who had donned a tunic and trousers like her handmaidens, Eritae, Rabe, Sabe, Captain Panaka, his security guards, several Naboo pilots who would fly the fighters that would assail the droid control ship, and young Skywalker. When I realized that Skywalker would be accompanying us, I felt unease course through me since I wasn't certain it was a brilliant idea to lead a pubescent lad into an enemy-occupied city while we attempted to liberate it. Then again, in the middle of a war, there weren't that many safe places to stow youths, and he certainly would be in more peril if he headed into battle with the Gungans. At least if he went into the city with us, he could find something to hide behind. Besides, I doubted that my Master would permit Skywalker to be slain in the crossfire…

Anyway, I wasn't going to engage in another dispute about the boy any time soon, since Skywalker had already been an object of far more contention than he was worth in my opinion. As the Queen led us toward the passages by the waterfall that fed into the city, Eritae slipped into step behind me.

"I never thought this day would come," she commented softly once we had exchanged nods. "I never thought that the day would arrive when war would reach Naboo, and where I would be an integral part of it…"

"But you were trained for such an eventuality," I pointed out, trying to soothe her, because it was best to go into a battle confident but not complacent. It was true anyway. I was positive that I had read that the Queen's handmaidens were taught enough martial arts to ensure that they would be able to defend themselves and their Queen. "Didn't you and the other handmaidens have to learn basic self-defense practices?"

"Yes, but I was only ever proficient in those lessons." Eritae offered me a slight, nervous grin as we continued on our journey across the plains. Now I could see Theed rising up in the east, but we did not head toward the urban center. Instead, we trailed the Queen as she traveled toward a cascading waterfall that was about a kilometer east of Theed. "Captain Panaka described me as being a 'basic marksperson', which essentially means that I can't hit a battleship wall― from the inside of the vessel."

At this point, we reached the waterfall, where Queen Amidala led us around its stone side. Suddenly, she halted before a durasteel panel that had been constructed to bear an uncanny resemblance to the rocky surface surrounding it. For a second, she rested her palm upon the panel, which receded until it disappeared into the ground.

Briskly, she strode into the passageway, which was arched, high enough to accommodate a male human, and wide enough to allow two healthy-sized humans to walk through it side-by-side. It had been carved from marble that was lined with moss and fungi that flourished in the damp atmosphere where nobody had come down to scour the walls in many decades. When Eritae and I followed Rabe and Sabe into the tunnel after the Queen, I discovered that the air was stale and dank, rendering it challenging to breathe.

Obviously, nobody had used this passageway in a very long time. Well, at least it hadn't caved in around us yet, and hopefully it wouldn't see fit to do so on our heads while we journeyed through it. Striving to erase such a notion from my mind, I resumed my exchange with the attractive young woman beside me.

"You don't have to be able to shoot the wall of the battleship," I observed dryly. "That's the job of the fighter pilots."

In the scant illumination afforded by the sunlight streaming in through the entrance that our comrades were still trailing though, I glimpsed her lips quirking upward as she replied, "I suppose you're right." Then she shook her head ruefully. "To you, I probably seem a perfectly weak dunce, becoming so emotional on the brink of a battle when you must have been through loads of them."

"I don't think you a weak or a fool," I countered, meaning every word. "Yes, I've been through so many battles that I can't even count them anymore, but before I go into one, there's always at least a second's hesitation. That pause isn't a weakness. It's a strength, because it shows you have a soul. I would think less of you if you didn't have compunctions about going to war."

"I don't know if I'll be able to do it," she confessed in a whisper. "I don't know if I'll be capable of killing."

"You can't kill inanimate objects like battle droids," I reminded her, "and you'll be able to do it. Once those Federation droids assault us, you'll see that there are things worth fighting for, and your home planet is among them."

"That's true. I have to rescue my family, my friends, and my fellow citizens. I can't just sit back and permit the Trade Federation to torture and murder them. I have to act," agreed Eritae, a trace of fervor entering her tone. Guilt soon followed as she went on, "But I do hope that the Gungans are okay. I mean, we almost drove them to extinction once before when we first colonized this world, and if we actually succeed in doing so now, I couldn't live with the shame."

"Don't be silly," I attempted to console her. "It won't be the Naboo that drives them to extinction if they are wiped out in this war. Rather, it will be the fault of the Trade Federation. They're the ones who invaded this world, and they attacked the Gungan city. If the Naboo and the Gungans had not banded together, the Trade Federation would just have found it easy to crush you both."

"You made me feel better. Thank you for that. I really like you, Obi-Wan Kenobi. It's a pity that Jedi can't marry, isn't it?"

In the pale light emitted by the glow rod the Queen had switched on once everyone had entered the passage and the panel had closed in our wake, I could see that there was a hint of regret in her expression that changed this comment from a jest to an earnest remark.

"Yes, it's a pity that Jedi can't marry," I assented in a murmur, but I wasn't thinking of the pretty young lady striding alongside me. To tell the truth, I was picturing another blonde girl with azure eyes and a quick wit. I was envisioning Siri― the Padawan that was two years my junior but who had been so talented with a lightsaber that she had been placed in my lightsaber classes.

We had been on several missions together, and while we had started out as rivals, we had mastered the knack of cooperating with each other so well that we had become friends. No, not friends, that was the problem. I did not feel the same around Siri as I did around Bant, and Siri didn't treat me the same as she did Garen or Reeft.

With her, I was even more of a rule abider, and with me, she was always more mocking than she was with anybody else. Since she couldn't be coy, she had to settle for derisive, and since I was unable to be complimentary, I had to be pompous. We had fallen into the rhythm of best friends so that nobody would ever discover the secret that we had finally acknowledged on a doomed spaceship without our Masters― the truth that we loved each other, and the truth that, besides us, only Qui-Gon and Yoda have ever learned. Behaving as if we were merely friends protected us from acting on emotions that we weren't supposed to even possess. Now we never mentioned what had passed between us when we had imagined that our deaths were only minutes away.

Since I knew that I couldn't have both her and the Jedi, I had given her up for the Jedi, just as she had given me up to serve in the Jedi Order. All the lives I could save and improve amounted to more to me than Siri and my happiness together, and she harbored similar sentiments, which was part of the reason why I had loved her so much. Still, if I could have been a Jedi and her husband, that would have been wonderful…

Rolling my eyes at my own folly as the pathway we were walking upon rose steeply because we were nearing the exit into the city, I ordered myself to return to my senses because they were starting to miss me. If I could have all my wishes become reality, then there would be no need for Jedi because there would be no warfare and no injustice, and, therefore, there would be no reed for Jedi. If Jedi weren't required, then I could have had Siri. Yet, all my wishes would not come true, and there would always be situations that demanded Jedi attention. This meant that my duty to the Jedi Order always superseded my feelings for Siri, just as her duty always was a higher priority than her feelings for me.

I had just finished re-hammering my commitment to the Jedi Order into my head when we arrived at the end of the passageway. Again, Queen Amidala placed her palm against the durasteel, which faded into the ground, allowing us to move out of the wall of a building a block away from the royal palace.

As we emerged from the wall of the edifice, we split up with Captain Panaka and his security officers heading away from us to approach the palace in a different direction to create the planned diversion for the rest of us. Those of us in Queen Amidala's contingent crept through Theed, sticking to the shadows as much as possible, and, five minutes later, we were all crouched behind walls and statues outside the entrance to the palace hangar.

Once we were all in position, the Queen switched on the glow rod that she had turned off when we had snuck into the city, and gestured to Captain Panaka, whose group was concealed behind the far hangar wall, indicating that we were ready for the diversion.

Captain Panaka motioned back, showing that the attack would commence in a moment. Seeing the gesture, Qui-Gon and I ignited our lightsabers, as those around us withdrew their blasters from their holsters.

The next instant, Captain Panaka's soldiers opened fire upon the battle droids stationed in the plaza outside the palace, shattering the metal bodies in a maelstrom of laser fire. In response, other droids wheeled about and began firing upon Captain Panaka and his men, drawn toward the source of the conflict and, thus, away from us.

So that had gone according to plan, I thought as I charged toward the hangar with the other members of Queen Amidala's group, deflecting any stray bolts that flew our way. Yet, the realization that everything had gone according to plan thus far did not lessen the discomfiture that I had felt ever since I had entered Theed. There was a massive disturbance in the Force, and what was more it was stemming from the palace. Why this was, I wasn't sure. All I knew as that it was true, and that I would therefore have to be even more alert than I typically was in a battle.

As we raced through the open doors of the palace hangar, battle droids stationed inside it whirled about to confront us. However, since we all had our weapons drawn, we were able to disable the foremost droids before the others really recognized the threat. In response to our assault, the droids rallied and summoned help from outside, but Panaka and his men had those in the plaza already preoccupied. As such, for a moment, our tiny militia was in control, but, if the warning emanating from the Force was any indication, our advantage wouldn't long endure. That meant we really ought not to become complacent.

"Get to your ships!" I heard the Queen bark at her pilots from behind me as Qui-Gon and I deflected the bolts that the droids fired at her. Since we had only been granted authority to shield the Queen, we did not attack the droids directly. Instead, we just blocked all the shots that were aimed at her. It was just a coincidence that just about every bullet we parried incapacitated a droid.

While I continued to deflect blaster bolts, I spotted out of the corner of my eye the Naboo pilots dart across the hangar toward their fighters. Most of them reached their ships and were able to take off, although a couple of them collapsed onto the marble floor, clutching their chests and stomachs where bullets had pierced them, staining the floor crimson with their blood. About half of the remaining pilots were roasted alive before they were even out of sight when their ships were shot by Federation anti-aircraft measures, and their vessels suddenly became an inferno to rival the hells described by many religions throughout the galaxy. I wouldn't think about how those pilots had suffered in their final moments, and I wouldn't contemplate how many more of them would perish in mere minutes when they attacked the Droid Control Ship. Such thoughts were a distraction, and distractions in a battle like this could have fatal consequences for myself and others. If there was one item that we didn't require more of today it was death.

The sight of their fellows being callously gunned down seemed to spur the Naboo on to greater heights rather than to dishearten them. Their shots became even more accurate, and Queen Amidala was so brilliant with her gun that she was as excellent a shot as most of the soldiers I had encountered in my travels. Her handmaidens Rabe and Sabe were almost as skilled as she was, and even Eritae managed to hold her own against the battle droids. I hoped that she would continue to do so, because I didn't want her to die. A passionate and clever young lady liked her deserved to live even if she was determined to spoil herself on politics.

Not long after the fighters had soared out of the hangar on their mission to eliminate the Droid Control Ship, Captain Panaka and his men dashed into the room. Apparently, they had destroyed the legion of droids in the plaza, and with their assistance, we were able to dispatch the remaining droids in the hangar rapidly.

"What's the fastest route to the throne room?" my Master demanded once all the droids had been mowed down.

"Through that door over there," answered Captain Panaka, pointing toward an alloy door at the far end of the chamber. As we all crossed the room on our way to the exit he indicated, Skywalker poked his sandy head out of the fighter he had hidden himself in during the skirmish and hollered, "Hey, wait for me!"

"No, Annie, you stay there," Qui-Gon ordered, turning back for a second. Halting as well, I groaned inwardly, wishing that Skywalker would use his head since there was a reason that he had been given brains not rocks to furnish his skull with. Honestly, hadn't the sight of pilots being killed all around in him in grotesque fashions been enough to compel him to conclude that hanging around the beings that droids were interested in killing wasn't exactly a high-survival rate endeavor? Once he had reached elementary conclusion, we could move on and accomplish our mission, preferable before whatever was emanating that ominous sensation in the Force could catch up with us…

"But I―" protested Skywalker, starting to climb down the ladder out of his fighter.

"Stay in that cockpit," Qui-Gon repeated. The clipped tone in which he issued this command alerted me more clearly than words to the fact that he, too, must have sensed the disturbance in the Force.

Skywalker hesitated, eyeing my Master imploringly. When he encountered only the unyielding gaze that I had been greeted with on countless occasions as a Padawan, he sighed, pouted, and returned to the relative safe haven of the cockpit. Well, that got the brat out from under our feet so we wouldn't trip over him, I noted as Qui-Gon and I started to follow the Naboo again.

However, we had barely traveled a step when I froze again. One of Captain Panaka's sentries had opened the alloy door and was gaping at the sight that greeted him. I couldn't blame him for doing so, for as my eyes lighted upon the cause of his horror, my mouth fell open as well.

Standing in the doorway was a dark, cowled Zabrak, or what once had been a Zabrak. Now, it was hard to discern his precise species since he had tattooed his face with jagged lines of scarlet and midnight black. His eyes were a terrifying blend of crimson and yellow, and every other tooth was painted obsidian, no doubt to foster the image that half of his teeth were moldering in his mouth. All in all, he was so revolting that words really couldn't do justice to him, and I wanted nothing more than to clap my hands over my eyes at the sight of him. Yet, I couldn't do that because I couldn't let him realize that he had any power over me whatsoever.

Anyway, it wasn't the sheer ugliness of the Zabrak that appalled me. It was the menace that surrounded him. In the Force, I could feel that this was an organism who had a hollow cavity where most of the inhabitants of the galaxy had a soul or heart of some kind. If that was possible, he was even worse than the Neimoidans or the Hutts. At least those beings killed others with the objective of attaining more money, but it was plain that the Zabrak before us murdered and tortured others just for the entertainment value. It was obvious that he relished killing because it provided him with a sense of power.

Apparently, the Sith Lord really wished to have Queen Amidala dead for some reason because he wouldn't be here otherwise. That meant that if we desired to protect the Queen as our mandate dictated, we would have to engage this monster in a duel. I certainly wasn't looking forward to a confrontation with an opponent who had given my Master a run for his credits, but I had no choice. Well, it was just as well that I wasn't looking forward to this battle, as only those who had crossed over to the Dark Side really enjoyed a battle to the death, and that's what lightsaber battles between the Jedi and the Sith always resulted as.

Numbly, I threw of my cloak because I wouldn't need it any time in the immediate future. From the appearance of my foe's lean body, I knew he would be an acrobat who would keep me leaping, which would certainly build up a sweat, and a person overheated in a cloak much faster than they did in a tunic. Overheating led to exhaustion, and exhaustion wasn't an asset in a duel with a Sith. Besides, cloaks hampered agility and I already saw that a bit of extra maneuverability wouldn't be amiss in this fight.

"We'll handle this," Qui-Gon informed the stunned Naboo as he tossed off his cloak as well.

The menacing figure in the doorway also tugged off his cape as Queen Amidala announced with as much confidence as she could muster through her shock that her people would take the long route to the throne room. Personally, I thought this was a bright idea. After all, we had perhaps five or ten more minutes before the reinforcements the droids had requested would arrive, so now was the time to seize the viceroy before more droids were added to the fray. Since time was limited, they really didn't have time to wait for us to defeat the Sith Lord before they moved onto the throne room, assuming that we would dispatch the Sith Lord at all…

As the Queen, Captain Panaka, the guards, and the handmaidens hurried out of a side door on their way to the throne room where the viceroy was probably cowering and hoping that the conflict would not reach him, the Sith Lord whipped out his lightsaber, which was as crimson as his tattoos. Reflexively, Qui-Gon and I ignited our own blades, but we didn't attack because Jedi never attacked first. After all, there was always a chance that the enemy would decide not to fight us, and Jedi pursued non-violent solutions to problems whenever possible. In this case, it was plain that the Sith wanted nothing more than to begin a lengthy session of negotiations because he was obviously a pacifist at the core of his being, I observed sardonically.

Although the Sith made no move to diffuse the conflict, he did surprise me when he thumbed the hilt of his weapon again, and another scarlet beam burst out of the other end of his lightsaber. When I glanced sidewise at my Master, I saw a similar expression of amazement etched on his features. Obviously, the Sith Lord had not utilized a double-bladed lightsaber when he combated my Master on Tatooine. Even then, he must have known that he would have to face the Jedi again and wanted to have a wild card stowed up his sleeve for such an eventuality.

Fighting an adversary with a dual-blade would be even more challenging, since every Jedi I had ever sparred against only employed one lightsaber at a time. Therefore, I had no familiarity with the strengths and weaknesses of the double-bladed approach. I'd have to learn as I went along. Wonderful. There was nothing like learning on the fly in the middle of a life-or-death experience, and that was probably a fortunate thing.

With a feral grin, the Sith Lord pounced forward, his lightsaber flashing, as one beam attacked me and the other assailed Qui-Gon. As we both blocked the strike and countered with blows of our own, I thought that the fight was on now.

So this is a Sith Lord, I noted as we battled our way across the hangar floor, lightsabers weaving as we all brought to bear every trick that we had acquired over the years. Well, I was not in any hurry to meet another one.

Qui-Gon and I attempted repeatedly to press the attack, and, indeed, the Sith Lord was retreating away from the starfighters toward the hangar's rear wall. Yet, I recognized that, while it might appear as if us Jedi were driving him, it was actually he that was dominating the confrontation. He was just playing with his the way an akk dog fiddled around with his chew toy before devouring it, and that was an encouraging comparison to have in mind while I battled such a deadly foe.

Wheeling, spinning, jumping, and somersaulting with the natural grace of a sand panther, our enemy was merely redirecting the sight of the conflict to an arena of his own choosing. Then, he would close in for the kill. It was his agility and dexterity that permitted him to keep both of us at bay and that allowed him to constantly assail us while he managed to effectively blunt any of our counterattacks.

At the outset of the battle, Qui-Gon had pressed hard, sensing how dangerous this man was and wanting to put an end to the combat quickly. With his long hair trailing behind him, my Master had attacked with ferocity and determination. Following his lead, I had attacked as well. However, when we discovered that our best efforts were not enough to achieve an early resolution, we settled into a pattern, working as a team against our adversary and waiting to exploit any opening that appeared. However, the Sith Lord was too skilled with his weapon to let down his guard even for a fraction of a second, and so the battle continued on.

We fought our way out of the main hangar through an entry that led into a power station. Catwalks and overhangs crisscrossed a pit in which a tandem of generators that served the royal palace was housed. The room was cavernous and filled with the noise of heavy machinery as it generated the power necessary to service this facility. Ambient light filtered away in clouds of steam and layers of shadow.

Qui-Gon and I forced our opponent onto one of the catwalks suspended above the generator, and the metal frame rang with the thudding of our boots and the clash of our lightsabers. Alone in this power station, our struggle intensified.

The Sith Lord vaulted from the bridge on which we fought to the one above it, his bizarre face shining with the fervor of the battle and his own peculiar euphoria at being engaged in mortal combat with us. It was clear that he regarded it as a joy to have the opportunity to kill two Jedi, since he must have inherited his order's hatred for the organization that had given birth to it. Because the Jedi had spawned the Sith as much as hard as it was to believe, given that the orders were essentially antithesis of each other. We had created our own gravest enemy. There was a lesson there somewhere, but I didn't have time to figure it out now. I would discover the answer later, assuming there was a later, of course.

We followed him onto the catwalk with Qui-Gon landing in front of the Sith, and I touching down behind our adversary, so that we had him pinned between us for a time. Down the length of the catwalk, we exchanged attacks and parries, our weapons blazing, and sparks flying from the metal riling of the walk as we smashed against it in the heat of the battle.

Exhaustion was beginning to slow my movements, and my reflexes were becoming less honed. This allowed the Sith Lord to catch me off balance and land a powerful kick on my chest that sent me soaring over the railing. My body hurt where he had kicked it savagely, and summoning the Force to soften my fall seemed like an awful lot of effort at the moment. Fortunately, I only fell three levels before I rammed into another suspension bridge. When I saw that I was going to smash into the metal catwalk, I mustered the energy necessary to flip over so that I would land on my stomach not my back. Odds were that I wouldn't break my stomach when I touched down upon it, but the same wasn't true of my spinal cord.

Although my stomach couldn't be broken by landing on the catwalk, the force of the touchdown was enough to knock all the wind out of me. For a long moment, I just lay there on the bridge, then I shoved myself to my feet. The battle was still raging between my Master and the Sith on the catwalk three levels above me. As I gathered the Froce around me, preparing to leap up to rejoin the fray, I observed that the distance had seemed much shorter when I had fallen but now that I had to jump it, it appeared very long indeed.

Get going, I snapped at myself, as my Master tailed the Sith Lord down the catwalk and toward a small door at the far end of the power station. As my muscles complied and I jumped up to the suspension bridge three levels above, I noticed that Qui-Gon was worn and battered, close to exhaustion, but he also had the Sith Lord on the defensive at last.

"Master!" I called after him as I landed on the catwalk. I wanted him to wait up for me so that I could reinforce him because I had regained some of my energy during the brief respite of Sith absence. However, Qui-Gon did not slow, obviously convinced that he could not relent his attack now that he had the Sith on the run.

One by one, the three of us passed through the tiny door into the corridor behind, with me bringing up the rear several meters behind the Qui-Gon. Since we were moving so quickly in our frenzied chase, we were into the hallway before it dawned on us what it was― a corridor loaded with lethal force fields that were designed to prevent unauthorized personnel and droids from entering this area. As none of us had entered a proper code to disable the force fields, a series of them slammed down throughout the corridor. The Sith Lord, who had gotten the farthest, was trapped between the fourth and fifth force fields. My Master, who had been right on his heels, was caught only one force field behind. Meanwhile I, who had been a considerable distance behind Qui-Gon, hadn't even gotten past the first one.

Blast it, I cursed to myself as I froze instantly. I definitely didn't want to charge into the force field. It packed enough electrical energy to kill me after only a millisecond's contact. Well, talk about an electrifying experience, I commented dismally, as I saw that my Master and the Sith Lord were also shocked into immobility by the abrupt buzz and flicker of lasers. Like me, they casted about for an escape from their present situation, and found none. All of us would have to wait for the force fields to lower again before we could continue the pursuit and the confrontation. For now, we were stuck in this tableau.

These force fields have to come down sometime soon, I hissed to myself as my impatience mounted. The adrenaline of battle was demanding that I take action immediately, and it was challenging for me to reign it in.

My impatience turned to unease when I saw Qui-Gon kneel down and meditate while he waited for the force fields to go down again. Although I was aware that the Force would tip him off when the force fields were about to rise again, I was terrified by the sight of him bending down to mediate in the middle of a battle. Some Jedi liked to mediate before a fight but my Master had never been among them, so to see him like this drove home the point that he was tired. The fact that he was exhausted caused my muscles to tense with foreboding because my Master's lightsaber style relied upon him maintaining his stamina. Ataru depended upon gymnastic stunts that required energy to perform, and his odds of winning this battle decreased considerably if he was exhausted.

When I glanced at the Sith Lord, I saw that he was at his prime, flushed with the high of battle, his eyes burning with excitement. No exhaustion was exhaustion was apparent on his features, and he would doubtlessly display the same ceaseless ferocity in the next segment of the conflict as he had previously.

Oh, Master, get up, I pleaded with him as I sensed that the force fields were about to rise again, but he must have had the same forewarning I did, for he rose, and drew his weapon again. A second after he regained his footing, the force fields receded again, and, as I raced down the corridor, trying desperately to catch up with my Master and the Sith Lord, as the battle resumed between Qui-Gon and the Sith.

I made it down most of the hallway before I heard the whir of the capacitors kicking in once more, cycling to reactivate the force fields. Impulsively, I thrust myself ahead, even though I knew logically that I was too far from the corridor's end to make it out and rejoin the others in the confrontation they were embroiled in beside the melting pit. To my aggravation, I managed to clear all the fields but the final one, which slammed down before me a mere second before I could have dashed by it. Compelled to halt abruptly by the arrival of the lethal force field, I called myself nine types of idiot.

Why in the name of all that was good in the galaxy couldn't I have moved just a touch faster? Then, I could have been out there, helping my tiring Master. That was where I belonged, not here, reflecting that I now really comprehended the trite aphorism that we lived or died on seconds. Relax, I instructed myself sternly. The force fields will disappear again in a moment or two, just like they did last time. Then I would be able to re-enter the battle.

I couldn't relax, though― not here, not now. Clutching my lightsaber tightly in an attempt to release some of my anxiety, I watched helplessly as Qui-Gon and our enemy battled on the narrow ledge that encircled the melting pit. A stream of electrons was all that separated me from the combatants, but it might as well have been a permacrete wall three meters thick.

I have always loathed chemistry, I complained as I desperately searched for a triggering device that might shut the system down. Unfortunately, I had no better luck in this endeavor than I had at the other end. Really, this should have been no surprise since fortune never favored me, and it certainly hadn't in this battle, which was why I was imprisoned in the force field at all, as useless as a woodpecker with rubber lips when it came to assisting my Master.

All I could do was watch, wait, and hope that Qui-Gon could hold on until I could join him. It appeared that he could do so. He must have found new reserves of strength to tap during his mediation, and now he was attacking with such ferocity that the Sith seemed to have been stymied. With rapid, decisive strokes, my Master bored into his adversary, intentionally engaging in close-quarters combat, so that the Sith Lord could not bring his double-bladed weapon to bear to his advantage. My Master might no longer be young, but he was still powerful, I reminded myself as the Sith's ragged face adopted a frenzied look of a caged wildcat and the glitter in his disconcerting eyes became one of uncertainty.

Bravo, Master, you really don't need my help after all, I approved silently, as I watched, anticipating each of Qui-Gon's lightsaber strokes as though they were my own. I knew exactly what he was going to do before he did it, because I had sparred with him and fought by his side so many times, just as he knew every move I would make before I acted in a duel as well.

I saw the Sith Lord back-flip across the melting pit, retreating to gain space in which to recover, earning just enough time to assume a new battle stance before Qui-Gon was on him again, covering the distance between them in a rush and hammering into the Sith anew. Yet, I could discern that he was beginning to weary now from carrying on the struggle alone; his strokes were not as vigorous as before, and his face was bathed with sweat and taut with fatigue. He really did need me, and where was I? Trapped behind a force field where I could be of the utmost service to nobody.

As impatience swelled inside me once more, I beheld how the Sith Lord started to edge his way back into the fight, gradually becoming the aggressor once again. Hurry, I ordered the force fields soundlessly because I hadn't progressed to the level of insanity where I addressed inanimate objects aloud, although that would happen soon if I wasn't released from my prison in the immediate future. The force fields obstinately refused to accede to my command, and I watched as Qui-Gon and the Sith Lord, tied up in a lethal dance, circled around the rim of the melting pit, locked up in a combat that seemed eternal that neither could emerge the victor from.

Then, the Sith Lord parried a downstroke, pivoted swiftly to the right, and, with his back to my Master, made a blind reverse lunge. Too late, Qui-Gon spotted the danger. The blade of the Sith Lord's lightsaber pierced him directly in the midsection, its shining light burning through clothing, flesh, and bone.

Qui-Gon made no sound as the blade penetrated him. He stiffened with the impact, took a small step backward, and stood motionless for an instant, fighting against the shock of the blow. Then his keen eyes misted over, his arms lowered, and a tremendous weariness settled over his proud features. He dropped to his knees, and his lightsaber clattered to the stone floor.

"NO!" A voice howled, reverberating like the cry of a wounded sand panther. For a second, I imagined that someone had given vent to my own anguish in that shout of desperate denial. Then I recognized that the screamer was me.

Before I had an opportunity for any further thought, the force fields lowered, and I charged forward to face the Sith Lord alone. Even though I was alone, I wasn't afraid. I would avenge my Master. I would kill the being who had done this to Qui-Gon. I was as powerful as he was, and my motivation was now stronger. I would win this battle. The Force told me so and it was never mistaken.


	14. Chapter 14

Author's Note: Mesa back. This chapter was kind of challenging one to write, so I hope it turned out fine. My grandmother had a stroke and she's in the hospital, so I've been sort of distracted lately. (If anyone has time, I would really appreciate it if you said a quick prayer for her.)

Reviewers will be rewarded with miniature Nubian starfighters like the one Anakin used to take out the Droid Control Ship while supplies last. If you hate flying, like Obi-Wan and I, you can have a free batch of cinnamon waffles with pumpkin butter instead. Not that I'm trying to bribe anyone into reviewing or anything corrupt like that:) After all, I'm not a politician.

Triumph or Tragedy

Liberated from the force field at last, I charged out of the service tunnel into the chamber that contained the melting pit, as thirsty for blood as an acklay in an execution arena. Abandoning any pretense of self-control or caution, I barreled into the Sith Lord with such fury that I almost knocked both of us off the ledge and into the abyss. However, the near death of myself as well as my adversary had as much impact on my combat strategy as a diki feather ramming into a permacrete wall would.

I continued to lash out at the Sith Lord with my lightsaber as if my own life was as valuable as counterfeit money. Only avenging Qui-Gon mattered to me now. I was lost in a fiery haze of ire and frustration, consumed by my grief at Qui-Gon's falling and my overpowering guilt at being unable to prevent it― at being the ultimate pathetic lifeform.

Wrong-footed by my manic assault, the Sith Lord was borne backward by my initial rush. Buoyed on by a savage triumph, I pushed him all the way back to the far wall of the melting pit. There the Sith struggled to keep me at bay, striving to open enough space between us to defend himself.

Our lightsabers scraped and grated against each other, and the room resounded with our wrath. Lunging and twisting, the Sith Lord regained the offensive and counterattacked, employing both blades of his weapon in an effort to chop my legs out from under me.

However, while I was not as experienced as my Master, I was younger and quicker. Anticipating each blow before it landed, I was able to elude my opponent's endeavors to bring me down.

Our titanic battle carried us around the perimeter of the melting pit and into the nooks and alcoves beyond― into the shadowed recesses and around smoky pillars and pipe housing. Once, the Sith hammered at me with such furious determination that he scorched my tunic. It was only by countering with an up-thrust at my foe's midsection that I was capable of escaping.

We fought our way back toward the force field riddled corridor, past my Master's still form which I couldn't bring myself to look at, and into a tangle of vent tubes and circuit housings. Steam burst from ruptured pipes, and the air was chocked with the acrid odor of roasted wiring resulting from the damage our sizzling weapons inflicted upon our helpless environment.

The Sith Lord commenced utilizing his command upon the Force to fling heavy objects at me, attempting to hurl me off balance and to disrupt the flow of my attack. I responded in kind, and the air was soon so filled with lethal missiles that it appeared a tornado was whirling about in the chamber. Our lightsabers flicked right and left as we warded off the objects, and the clash of errant metal careening off stone walls formed an eerie shriek in the gloom.

The battle wore on and for a time it proceeded evenly. However, as much as I loathed to admit it, the Sith Lord was the superior warrior and was fueled by a frenzy that surpassed even my own frantic determination. Gradually, the Sith wore me down. Bit by bit, he pressed me back, striving to catch me off guard.

I could feel my body weakening, and my fear of what it would mean if I, too, were to fall at the hands of my foe, increased exponentially, as insidious as a fatal virus. I won't fail, I growled at myself. I will not fail again. I will avenge Qui-Gon. My enemy will meet his end upon my blade.

Sensing my opportunity slipping through my fingers like water through a clenched fist and aware that my strength was waning, I mounted a final assault. I rushed the Sith Lord with a series of side-strikes designed to manipulate the two-bladed lightsaber into a horizontal position. Then, I feigned an attack to my adversary's left and brought my lightsaber over and down with enough power that I severed his weapon in half. Every cell in my body screaming in exaltation at my victory, I sliced at the Sith Lord's horned head, a killing blow…and missed entirely.

My foe, expecting the maneuver, had stepped adroitly out of the way. Discarding half of his cut weapon, he counterattacked rapidly, lashing out at me with enough force that I toppled sideways. Quickly, he struck me again, harder still, and this time I lost my footing completely and tumbled over the edge of the pit, my lightsaber sailing out of my grasp.

For an instant that seemed to hold centuries, I was falling, descending into the darkness of the pit. Desperately, I reached out a flailing hand and managed to grab a metal rung about five meters below the lip of the pit.

There I hung, helpless, gazing up into the grotesque, leering face of the Sith Lord. Great. Of all the practically infinite locations in the galaxy, why was I always sentenced to inhabit the worst one? Ah, but my situation was looking up now because my lightsaber had just rattled past me into the depths of the abyss. Why hadn't I listened to Qui-Gon better when he had instructed me that a Jedi's existence was intimately liked to the fate of his or her lightsaber?

Maybe it was beneficial that I was hanging onto this nozzle, though. Sure, the scenery was not wonderful and I would probably be dead soon, but, after all, it did provide me with the invaluable opportunity to examine my folly. All of it. It was only now, when I was about to die, that I realized what an idiot I had been throughout my combat with the Sith after my Master had fallen. I had been battling the Sith Lord from a blazing nebula of emotional instability rather than from a firm foundation of self-control.

No wonder the Sith Lord had gobbled me up like an akk dog would a chew toy since he was trained to employ his feelings in a fight as fuel, whereas I had been taught to accept and release them so that they would not become a distraction. With no training in the Dark Side, there was no way I could have beaten the Sith Lord at his own game, and I was obviously not the brightest sentient in the galaxy by several decimal places if it had taken me this long to recognize as much. Besides, I shouldn't have wanted to win at the cost of everything I was because such a victory would really only have been a failure. There was a line that no Jedi should ever cross and I had come dangerously close to doing so.

I had broken the rules, and they had almost shattered me. However, they hadn't destroyed me entirely. No, they had given me a second chance to adhere to the Code, which was even more important to follow when one didn't wish to, I realized suddenly. After all, it was easy to abide by the regulations when they functioned in your favor but the true test of character was if you could stick to them even when they contradicted your own petty desires. Rules were the devices that prevented you from falling over the edge into the Dark Side. They also allowed you to make the jump from strong to mighty by providing you with the means to govern yourself. A strong person was one who could vanquish others, and a mighty being was one who could conquer himself― specifically, his worst attributes. I should have followed the rules and then I wouldn't have been in this unenviable position.

That didn't mean that I was wrong to fight the Sith or even attempt to kill him, though. Although I had erred grievously when I had attempted to kill the Sith Lord to avenge Qui-Gon in order to satisfy my own base compulsion for vengeance, I had not been misguided in my goal. The Jedi Code dictated that I had to kill the Sith because he was a threat to the galaxy that could not be permitted to thrive, a menace that must be nipped in the bud.

To many, it would seem a trivial academic finepoint that was of minimal consequence since the net result was identical. However, to me, to any Jedi, this distinction made a solar system worth of difference.

Now I had had to devise a manner in which to fulfill my obligation to the Jedi and the Galactic Republic as a whole, and, given the situation I was in presently, that would doubtlessly be a piece of sweetcake as my friend Garen would assert. Well, if there was no pain, there was no gain, I reminded myself grimly.

Then, an idea rammed into my mind with all the inertia of an out-of-control speeder crashing into a skytower at sixty kilometers an hour. I wasn't the only one who had dropped my weapon in the course of this epic battle. My Master's was still lying upon the alloy floor and if I could summon it with the Force, then…Yes, I knew that no Jedi or Sith ever fought as well with another's lightsaber as they were personal, handcrafted devices but now was no time for technicalities. Besides, if my scheme succeeded, then it would hardly matter, and if it failed, I would hardly be worse off than I currently was. Any weapon at all was better than none, and I couldn't hang on to the nozzle indefinitely since I could already feel my muscles weakening.

Eyes riveted on the Sith Lord, I slipped deep inside myself, connecting more fully with the Force than I ever had in my life. Calming my mind and steadying my pounding heart, I finally managed to banish my anger and fear and call upon the last reserves of my strength. Then, not thinking and just trusting in the Force, I launched myself away from the nozzle and catapulted back towed the lip of the pit.

Imbued with the power of the Force, I cleared the rim easily and somersaulted to land behind the Sith Lord in one fluid motion. As I jumped, I drew my Master's lightaber to me. When I touched down, it smacked into my palm, and I had it activated in a fraction of a second.

Shock and wrath contorting his features so that they were even more nauseating than usual, the Sith Lord pivoted to confront me. But he was already too late. We live and die on seconds, and he had been a millisecond too slow on the uptake. The moment he took to relish his victory cost him his life, because before he could act to save himself, I had slashed Qui-Gon's lightsaber through his chest.

That was probably the worst heartburn of his life, assuming that he had a heart, of course, I observed mentally as my stricken foe howled in a combination of agony and incredulity. Then, I watched, still stunned by how the Force had worked its will through me, as my opponent's eyes glazed over and he toppled into the abyss. He didn't find a nozzle to clutch, and I felt the tremors in the Force as he died like tidal waves. Well, there was a death that wouldn't be discussed in the obituaries―more like in the neighborhood improvements section of every newspaper.

Yet, even though I knew that I had slain a virtual paradigm of evil, now that my ire had evaporated, I felt grief for the Sith's wasted life. He had obviously been strong in the Force, so what might he have amounted to if he hadn't been corrupted by the Dark Side? What could he have accomplished if he hadn't been trapped by his own desires? What might he have achieved if he hadn't been enslaved by his own greed, thirst for domination, and hatred? I guess that I would never know, and now was not the time to ruminate upon the matter.

"Master!" I cried, thumbing off the lightsaber and racing over to my mentor's side as I finally regained some semblance of my senses.

"It's too late," Qui-Gon choked out the horrible truth that I did not want to hear because then I might have to acknowledge it as reality. I did not wish to face the fact that he could die after I had done everything in my power to save him. I did not desire to see how helpless we all were― how little we could do to protect our fellow creatures. I should have learned this lesson before, but it had never been impressed on me like this before since I had never cared about another being's survival as much as I did now. "It's―"

"No!" I cut across him vehemently. He couldn't die. Not here, not now. It wasn't fair. The galaxy needed him too much, the Jedi needed him too much, and I needed him too much. The final thought had been driven into my head during my battle with the Sith Lord since I had witnessed then how much power the Dark Side still possessed over me. Only Qui-Gon could show me how to ruin the Dark Side's hold upon me.

"Obi-Wan, promise―" My Master labored to get the words out and when I could feel the effort he was making not to yield to the call of the Force yet, I knew that he was right and I was wrong again. He was dying, and there was indeed nothing I could do to prevent it. I had failed him. "Promise me you'll train the boy."

"Yes, Master." I nodded eagerly and offered the vow instantly, thinking that this was an opportunity to succeed and redeem myself for my failure to rescue him. For once, I promised something without weighing the implications of giving my word. At that moment, I would have done or pledged to do anything if there was even a millionth of a chance that it would ease his suffering. I would have flown to the end of the universe and back again for him, and I despised flying. Flying was for droids and imbeciles, and I was neither, or that was what I liked to tell myself, at any rate.

His face had a gray undertone like cold grain mush that announced more clearly than a flashing neon holoprojection that he was dying, and his voice, like his Life Force, was ebbing. Dimly, I recognized that someone or several beings were cheering in the distance, and I was compelled to lean closer to hear his parting sentiments. We must have won the war, I noted dispassionately as Qui-Gon mustered the energy to whisper, "He is the Chosen One. He will…bring balance. Train him!"

Still hardly cognizant of what I was doing, I nodded dumbly. He could have just established that there was no such thing as gravity, and I would have agreed with equal fervor. Satisfied, Qui-Gon relaxed and stretched out a hand to stroke my face. However, his hand was stopped when the life in him faded entirely, surrendering to the will of the Force at last, and, for the second time in the course of a handful of minutes, a tsunami of death washed over me in the Force, prompting me to quiver in sympathy.

It didn't matter that his fingers had not actually touched my face, though. The attempted gesture was as eloquent as the touch would have been. I knew that by reaching out to stoke my face, he was not only expressing his love for me― he was also trying to comfort me. Even when he was passing away, he reached out to me, striving to soothe me.

But even he couldn't console me now that he was dead and gone from me forever. Gone. Since Jedi accepted death as the wish of the Force, I struggled to wrap my mind around the concept, but I had little success in the endeavor as I kept running into barriers in my head. How could someone as strong and as full of life as my Master had been perish so quickly? How could someone whom I had confided in, went into battle beside, and argued with be here one minute and gone the next?

Yes, I had witnessed deaths before and some of them had torn my soul asunder but no grief I had ever experienced could rival the pain that was coursing through me now that the denial and shock were losing their numbing dominance over me. Qui-Gon was really dead. I would never be able to seek his guidance, tease him, or be gently mocked by him again. Now it really slammed into me just how much I depended upon his wisdom, serenity, and confidence. It was only when I had lost him forever that I realized how much I had taken the man for granted. After all, you didn't appreciate the miracle that was water until you were lost in the middle of the Tatooine desert with no oasis in sight.

I was glad that my Master and I had been reconciled before Qui-Gon had died, but I wished now that I had the foresight to tell him in the swamp yesterday when I apologized to him how much I valued him. Yet, how could I have done so when I hadn't really understood how special my Master was to me?

Regret at my stupidity pulsed through me, ripping me apart more effectively than an acklay would have. Then, Qui-Gon's voice rose inside my brain: "You must accept your regrets the way you accept your mistakes, and then move on, Padawan."

Wonderful. Now his voice was added to the cacophony inside my head, because the shouting of all my multiple personalities obviously was not enough of a problem for the relatively sane me to contend with. Wait, I think I meant it when I said it was wonderful that Qui-Gon's voice was inside my head, because it meant that he wasn't entirely gone from me since I still had the benefit of his wisdom. He had imparted that gem to me after some mission to― I didn't remember where to actually when I considered the matter, nor did I recall what exactly it was I had rued. Well, that just displayed how insignificant the issue was when placed in appropriate proportion by the power of time, which eventually conquered everything. Still, I was pretty sure that I would never forget my Master's death and the regret I felt at it.

Furthermore, I still wished that I had told Qui-Gon how much I cared about him. However, would it have made any difference if I had? I wondered dimly through my sobs. Granted, it would have impacted me and my almighty conscience, but would it have mattered to Qui-Gon?

No, I reasoned firmly, as I made an effort to dry my eyes and then recognized that it was a fruitless endeavor since my grief had not yet run its course and no doubt more tears would just surface to replace the old ones. Qui-Gon was aware of how much I cared about him, just as I understood how much I meant to him. I had to trust that he comprehended my love for him the same way he trusted me to see how much he loved me.

And we had loved each other like father and son, I thought as a new spasm of sobs wracked through me as a million memories swept over me, overwhelming my mind and senses. I recalled our two trips to Ragoon-6 and our training missions there, which had only increased the bond between us. I remembered how he had slipped me one of Manex's best pastries on New Apsolon during our mission there when I was sixteen. I recalled how he had always been able to surprise me with a quick quip in the middle of even the most serious missions. All of this I recalled indiscriminately and in no discernable order, permitting a deluge of memories to swell through me, hoping for a catharsis of some sort.

When it came, I would inform the Queen of Qui-Gon's and the Sith Lord's deaths. I would also have to report to the Council as well and somehow arrange to train Skywalker as a Jedi like I had sworn to Qui-Gon that I would do. For now, though, I would focus only on absorbing my grief and then moving on once I had regained my composure as befitted a mature Jedi, which is what I would have to be now that my Master was gone.

I wasn't certain of how long I knelt beside my dead Master before three beings, slinking along in the shadows, crept into the chamber. Glancing up at them through a haze of pain, although the mist of tears was now thankfully banished, as the Force warned my of their entry, I saw that the newcomers were Captain Panaka, Eritae, and a Naboo security officer. All of them had their blasters drawn as they snuck in. However, when they noticed that it was only me and my late Master in the room, they lowered their guns.

"We came to investigate," Captain Panaka educated me gruffly even though my mind was still too clouded by grief to wonder about their presence. "You and Qui-Gon were gone for awhile, and we wanted to ascertain if that Zabrak was still a threat to Her Highness."

"He's not," I declared, my voice harsher than it typically was, owing to the pain I was struggling to come to terms with. Waving my hand at the pit, I elaborated, "He toppled down there after I sliced through his chest with my lightsaber. If the blow didn't kill him, then the fall would have."

"You're positive of this?" demanded Captain Panaka.

"Of course, I felt it in the Force," I responded.

When I mentioned this supernatural entity, Captain Panaka's habitual glower intensified, and he opened his mouth perhaps to question the validity of the revelations it brought about. However, Eritae intervened, her tone soft but with a hint of durasteel underlying it, "Captain Panaka, you have investigated the scene and seen that only Kenobi is present. Surely, you don't believe that he is any threat to the Queen?"

"No, I don't," acknowledged Captain Panaka grudgingly, "but…"

"Then go report to Her Highness," interrupted Eritae. "Doubtlessly, she will want to hear your report as soon as possible since it will be an incredible relief for her to hear that she is safe at last, and you know how much she detests being kept waiting."

"Where will you be?" scowled Panaka.

"Here," Eritae replied, her chin jutting out stubbornly.

"Very well," snapped Captain Panaka after a few second's consideration. To the other Naboo security guard, he barked, "Come on, solider. Let's not take all day to report to our Queen."

"I'm terribly sorry," Eritae murmured as she settled herself delicately on the alloy floor beside me once Captain Panaka and other Naboo sentry departed. Her quintberry eyes filled with tears as she glanced at my Master and admitted, "I didn't really know him that well at all, but he died for the rest of the Naboo and me. That makes him a hero in my opinion. After all, it's the greatest expression of love to lay down one's life for another, and he must have had a tremendous love of all sentients if he could do so for thousands of beings he had never met. Many people wouldn't even be able to summon up the courage to die for a fried or a family member and look at what he did."

"He was very in sync with the Living Force so he seemed to regard all organisms as his family on some level," I answered, reflecting upon just how much I admired the man I referred to. Even before I was chosen as his Padawan, I had revered him, and I had never lost that awe because he was one of those rare childhood heroes that grew instead of shrank in one's esteem as more was revealed about him. "He was a great Jedi― and a good man. If I become half the Jedi or half the man that he was, I'll deem myself as having led a good life."

Now that my contact with humanity had been restored, I decided that it would be a fine opportunity to confirm my suspicions that we had won the battle of Naboo, even though I felt more like I had endured a massive defeat rather than a marvelous triumph.

"So, we beat the Trade Federation then?" I inquired.

"Yes." A grin split Eritae's features. "We won. That Skywalker lad shot down the Droid Control Ship and we captured the viceroy without any real incident. I loathe warfare, but at least this war ended quickly."

"Yes, at least it's all over now," I assented. My tone was more than a little absent because I was truly considering Skywalker for the first time since I had made my oath to Qui-Gon. Obviously, he had incredible skills with the Force if he had achieved such a feat at such a young age, and he must indeed be quite a pilot.

Yet, the thought of his gifts and his sheer power terrified me. In effect, I had pledged that I would take Skywalker as my Padawan when I had promised to train him, not merely ensure that the Council had him educated as a Jedi. How could I possibly instruct Skywalker adequately when I had barely emerged from training myself? Hadn't I just proven that it was difficult enough for me to control myself, nonetheless an apprentice?

Force knew, I was planning on taking a Padawan once I had been a Jedi Knight for several years and had experience. Still, even then, I wouldn't have selected someone as powerful as Skywalker as my test dummy. While I was flattered that my Master had enough faith in me and my abilities to entrust his final project to me, I couldn't help but wish that he hadn't. It was too much of a responsibility too soon, although I would do my best to live up to my Master's expectations. I had always done so and I wasn't about to stop now. Besides, training Skywalker was an opportunity to redeem myself for my previous failure, and I would not allow myself to mess up again. Somehow I would succeed.

This thought afforded me enough motivation and inspiration to shove myself to my feet. "I have got to tell the Queen and the Jedi Council what happened," I remarked as I rose.

"I'll inform the Queen of your Master's sacrifice," stated Eritae, sounding genuinely interested in helping me, which was odd for a politician, since most beings in that industry had as little interest in assisting their fellow inhabitants of the galaxy as a serial killer had in aiding his victims. "That's assuming, of course, that Captain Panaka hasn't broken the news to her with his typical sensitivity, which is approximately that which a vibrosword displays when decapitating somebody. You deal with filling in your Council. That is enough of a task fro someone who has just suffered the loss of a friend."

Perhaps I should have argued with her, but I didn't because Qui-Gon's death had left me drained. Therefore, instead of protesting, I bobbed my head in affirmation, summoned up all my resolution, and went away to contact the Jedi Council to inform them that my Master had perished. After all, I had grieved long enough for the moment. Further examination of my conscience could come later after the inevitable nightmares of my Master's death scene that would probably haunt me for a very long time visited me. For now, though, I had a duty to perform, and I would fulfill my obligations. After all, I had nothing better to do and doing my duty might fill the void inside me. It was worth a shot anyway, since nothing could possibly make me feel any worse than I did at the moment.


	15. Chapter 15

Author's Note: Thank you so much to all those who prayed for my grandmother. I really appreciate it. Your prayers worked because she is out of critical care and is in standard care now, so I'm feeling more optimistic. (The fact that I just got into my first choice college with a 60,000 dollar scholarship might also be contributing to my good cheer.)

This time around, reviewers will receive Halloween candy. If you remember to say "Trick or treat", you'll receive two pieces of candy. (If you don't want candy, you can have a portable Jedi Council chair. You can't actually receive a seat on the Council because Anakin would get jealous and kill you with his lightsaber. Remember, this is the guy who tries to choke his wife and kills his Master, so you do not want him cross at you.)

If you review, I might put up an epilogue, so if you're interested, make sure you review.

Beginnings and Endings

When the Council heard that Qui-Gon had been slain by a Sith Lord, they decided to travel to Naboo to learn as much as they could about the enemy I had killed. After all, now that the Sith had returned, if indeed they had ever disappeared, then it was critical that we discovered as much as we could about them. While the Council was on Naboo, they could attend my Master's funeral service, which Queen Amidala had insisted upon paying for.

The Jedi Council would be arriving with new Supreme Chancellor Palpatine of Naboo. When I heard that Palpatine had been elevated to the august position of Supreme Chancellor, suspicion flooded me. So, Senator Palpatine had become Chancellor, that was an intriguing scrap of information to say the least. One did not attain this illustrious rank without a fair share of friends in powerful locations in the Senate, so the fact that Palpatine had been made Supreme Chancellor suggested that he had influential connections in the Senate. If he had such connections, why hadn't he employed them to resolve the crisis on his homeworld sooner? Did he not desire to save his homeplanet?

I snorted at the naïveté of my own question. Of course Palpatine didn't care a whit about the well-being of the Naboo, who were the beings whose interests he theoretically represented in galactic government. His sole concern was self-aggrandizement just as it was the core motivator of ninety-nine out of every one hundred politicians. Therefore, the Trade Federation had probably bribed him into inaction on the matter, just as the organization must have done with scores of other Senators. The labyrinth of political corruption was never-ending, and those who expected it to be easy to navigate always died young in very painful fashions.

Regardless of my distaste and mistrust for Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, the morning after Qui-Gon had joined the Force, I was obliged to wait by the landing pad next to the royal palace along with the Queen, her handmaidens, her guards, and young Skywalker's, so that I would be present to greet him and the Jedi Council when they arrived. Well, at least those on the Council were organisms worth waiting for…

After fifteen minutes of waiting, the Chanceelor's sleek cruiser that probably cost more than the average Ugnaught laborer eanred in a decade burst through the atmosphere, and Queen Amidala ordered her troops to bring the Trade Federation Viceroy Nute Gunray and his adjunct Rune Haako our of custody to meet the Chancellor.

As the ship landed and the pair of quaking Neimoidains had joined our congregation, Queen Amidala announced to Gunray in a firm tone that somehow still managed to convey her pleasure with the current situation, "Now, Viceroy, you are going to have to return to the Senate and explain all this."

I suspected that the viceroy's pocketbook would be responsible for most of the explanations since it was better at conversing with Senators in their native tongue.

"I think you can kiss your trade franchise good-bye," Captain Panaka sneered. Personally, I would have taken that gamble except for the tiny fact that I didn't care for the long odds. I would have been more inclined to believe his analysis if I wasn't aware of how many Senators were in the pay of the Trade Federation and if I wasn't convinced that the new Supreme Chancellor, who was supposedly going to get rid of the corruption in the Senate, was bound to the Federation by his wallet strings.

With difficulty, I concealed my dubiousness behind a blank mask that would have made most dejarick players envious. Luckily, I didn't have to hide my emotions for very long, because, at that moment, the ramp of Palpatine's starship was lowered, and the newcomers started disembarking as everyone's attention riveted upon them. Due to his newly elected position of essential supreme being of the universe, Chancellor Palpatine was the first to descend, his bloodless face flushed with what was evidently intended to be delight at Naboo's victory over the Trade Federation. On his heels came a cadre of his personal sentinels, cloaked in their crimson hoods and several of his aides, whose purpose in life was to simper agreement to everything the Chancellor stated and to keep the Chancellor apprised of minuscule details that he was too sordid to bother with but his ignorance of would be a public relations nightmare. After the politicians, the members of the Jedi Council descended.

Once the appropriate bows and formalities were exchanged, Queen Amidala welcomed Palpatine home with a warm, "Congratulations on your election, Chancellor. It is good to see you again."

"It is good to be home," Palaptine returned, his artificial smile expanding, "but it is you who should be congratulated, for your boldness saved our people." From his tone, it was obvious that this was his number one priority.

At this juncture, his eyes focused upon me, and he declared, "We are indebted to you for your bravery, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

It couldn't have been plainer that an aide had just slipped my name to him a minute or so ago, but I was clearly supposed to believe that I had been important enough to garner the Chancellor's personal interest, and this was intended to flatter me. I wasn't going to fall for that stale political trick. However, since he was my superior, I owed him a response, so I bowed again, offering a non-verbal expression of gratitude which also permitted me to hide my dislike of the man.

Now, Palpatine's gaze shifted until it settled upon Skywalker. His smile was the alluring one of a predator enticing prey into its mouth as he added in a soft voice that was laced with a poisonous menace, "As for you, young Anakin Skywalker, we will be keeping a very close eye on you."

As Palpatine patted him on the shoulder in a manner that would have made me recoil reflexively, Skywalker turned wide blue eyes up to the man who touched him. He seemed surprised that anyone in such a lofty position would stoop to notice him, but as the Chancellor strode away, discussing fashions in which charges could be levied against the largest merchant guild in the galaxy with the Queen, I saw that his alarm had been replaced with admiration.

Warning bells clanged in my head. If Skywalker was to be trained as a Jedi, outside interference in the shape of Palpatine would be as welcome as a venomous snake at a ball. After all, Jedi did not appreciate outside intervention in the way we trained our young, and Skywalker would be enough of an anomaly without another variable added to the equation of his education as a Jedi. Yet, if Palpatine wished to stick his nose in Skywalker's affair, what really could be done? One could hardly refuse the Supreme Chancellor if you were fond of life outside of the foulest Republic penitentiaries, which I was.

Well, I'll deal with the issue of Palpatine's interest in Skywalker once I have permission to take him as my Padawan at all, I reasoned to myself. Once I had solved one problem, I would center my attention on another. That was the only way to avoid going certifiably crazy in this stressful galaxy, after all.

The next couple of hours were busy and exhausting ones. In a conference room in one of the palace towers that Queen Amidala had provided for us to meet in, I met with the Jedi Council and described the battle with the Sith Lord in as much detail as I could remember. When I explained how close I had come to falling to the Dark Side, I expected an interjection of some sort, but nobody interrupted because they were all too captivated by my horrifying tale to wish to delay it in the slightest. It was only when I had completed my report that Master Windu pronounced through his frown, "There is no doubt that the mysterious warrior was a Sith."

So Qui-Gon had been correct about who his attacker on Tatooine had been as well. Was it really so impossible that he was right about Skywalker, too?

"Always two there are," murmured Master Yoda, his forehead wrinkled pensively. "No more and no less― a master and an apprentice."

Wonderful, I observed mentally, so there was another being as dangerous and as deadly as the man-beast I had gutted roaming about the galaxy, trying to instill anarchy and barbarism wherever civilization dwelt. There was a thought that would help me to sleep soundly at night.

Master Windu nodded his assent and inquired, "But which one was destroyed― the master or the apprentice?"

His question had suspended in the air, solidifying an adopting an icy existence of its own because nobody knew the answer to the haunting inquiry. Even I didn't, and I was the one who had fought the Sith. I could only hope that I had defeated the master, not the apprentice, because I had barely managed to vanquish the apprentice, so against the master I would have been fish food.

After several minutes of awkward silence, I took a deep breath and requested that after I had passed my trials and became a full-fledged Jedi Knight, I be permitted to take Qui-Gon's place as Skywalker's Master. Well, I can never take Qui-Gon's place, not really, but I can train Skywalker, I amended mentally. No one could take my Master's place. Everyone was unique, but Qui-Gon's specialness was more apparent than most beings' was.

To my relief, the Council did not dismiss my request immediately. Instead, they all looked thoughtful and went off to confer in private. The discussion must have been an intense one because it lasted until sunset. That was not a good thing because it meant that I spent most of the afternoon worrying about the outcome of their debate. I knew that there was no profit in fretting about things that I had no control over, but I couldn't stop myself. I was a control freak, and nothing scared me more than the unknown, hence my preference for the Unifying rather than the Living Force. The Living Force was unpredictability and the Unifying Force was uniformity and stability.

Finally, just when I was starting to think that I would begin chewing on my fingernails in a resurrection of a nervous habit I thought that I had broken years ago, the Council summoned me again, and I went to meet them in the conference room where I had described my confrontation with the Sith Lord earlier on in the day. When I entered, to my surprise, I saw that only Master Yoda was present in the many-windowed chamber.

Once I had entered, I knelt on the marble floor and waited for the Jedi Master to address me, thinking that I had been waiting for hours now, so it wouldn't do any harm to wait for a few more minutes while Master Yoda sorted out his thoughts. Master Yoda's gimer stick tapped out a regular beat as he paced across the room several more times before he pivoted to regard me, informing me rather abruptly, "Confer on you the level of Jedi Knight, the Council does."

For a second, the words didn't register. As far as I was concerned, Master Yoda could have been babbling on in Huttsee and I would have comprehended his remark as much. Then, I understood his meaning, and I grinned. I was a Jedi Knight at last. This was the moment that I had dreamed of ever since I was a youngling in the crèche, and I was thrilled that it was upon me now. Yet, my brain still found it challenging to accept the notion that I was really a Jedi now. Doubtlessly, I would realize what had occurred tomorrow evening and whoop for no discernible reason, causing any nearby people to eye me anxiously. Of course, the moment was also spoiled by the fact that Qui-Gon wasn't here to witness it, either. Yes, he was there in the Force, but he wasn't there physically and if he was one with the Force, he would have surrendered his conscious awareness to it, meaning that he wouldn't even know he was there.

Still, it was good that I was now a Jedi in title if not in feeling because that meant that I could take Skywalker on as my apprentice for what would doubtlessly be an enriching experience for the both of us.

Perhaps sensing my train of thought, Yoda continued ominously, "But agree with your taking this boy as your Padawan learner, I do not!"

That was unfortunate, but somehow I would train Skywalker. I had promised Qui-Gon that I would, and nothing was going to prevent me from keeping my oath to him. The word of a Jedi was sacred, and I would have done everything in my power to fulfill any promise I made to anyone, but the fact that I had sworn to Qui-Gon made it even more important that I keep my word. A person without honor had nothing, and I couldn't serve the Jedi if I lost my honor. Besides, terrible things happened to organisms that were dumb enough to break faith with the dead. At least, folklore maintained that it was so, and I was not eager to test the veracity of such myths if I could help it, which in this case I could. I would train Skywalker, and it was too bad if it disappointed the Council.

It was ironic that I had always grumbled about my Master resisting the dictates of the Council in the name of his conscience, but now the first thing I did upon being elevated to the rank of Jedi Knight was perform the same cursed action. I really had been around the man too much if he had rubbed off on me so much, but I couldn't manage despair at the idea, because it meant that Qui-Gon would never leave me if I had elements of him inside me.

"Qui-Gon believed in him," I pointed out steadily, locking eyes with Yoda so that he could see that I was resigned to my position and nothing would change my mind, "and I believe in Qui-Gon."

That was true. I had learned on our return trip to Naboo after the Queen had appealed to the Senate that trust was the greatest gift I could offer to anyone, and my Master deserved my faith.

For a long moment, Yoda was silent as he resumed pacing. Then, his eyes not focused upon me but on the death throes of the setting sun outside the window that was staining everything in the room a scarlet color, he conceded, "The Chosen One the boy may be. Nevertheless, grave danger fear I do in his training."

At this comment, a shiver quivered up and down the length of my spinal column. Since I held Yoda in high esteem as everyone in the Jedi Order did, his skepticism impacted me, still Qui-Gon had been so confident, and I respected him as much as I did Yoda. I would train Skywalker and keep Yoda's opinion in mind as I went along, balancing the two influences as best as I could. After all, it was only fair that I saw that Skywalker was educated in the way of the Jedi because Qui-Gon had died and deserved to have his final say on this issue, whereas Yoda was alive and would have plenty of opportunities to voice his doubts about Skywalker in the future, and I would listen to them, as I listened to everything Yoda said.

"Master Yoda, I gave Qui-Gon my word," I insisted, striving to be firm and respectful at the same time, and probably failing dismally in both endeavors. I _will_ train Anakin. Without the approval of the Council if I must."

I meant the final statement, as well, even if I sincerely hoped I wouldn't have to go that far. For Qui-Gon, I would defy the edicts of the Jedi Council just this once. The rest of the time, I would be as conventional as I could, but Qui-Gon would probably appreciate a legacy of rebellion anyway. After all, unorthodoxy was his middle name, not mine.

"Qui-Gon's defiance I sense in you." Yoda's orb-like eyes centered on me, widening to emphasize his remark as he waved his gimer stick at me. "Need that you do not!"

When Yoda established as much, my forehead furrowed. Personally, I had never perceived myself as defiant. Yet, both Yoda and Qui-Gon had accused me of being so. Maybe I ought to meditate upon the issue sometime in the near future, because, after all, if one person announced that you resembled a Hutt, you ignored the cliché insult, if two people told you that your looked like a Hutt, you began to scrutinize yourself more closely in mirrors, and when three people told you that you looked like a Hutt, you might as well get a spittle bucket and start selling illegal spice at exorbitant prices to lowlifes in the worst neighborhoods in the known universe. Well, even if I was defiant, there were worst things I could have been, and I wasn't going to back down on this matter.

As I opened my mouth to inform Master Yoda of this, he sighed, "Agree with you the Council does. Your apprentice, young Skywalker will be."

Here, I broke into a full smile as I recognized that I would indeed be able to fulfill my promise to train Skywalker, and I wouldn't need to defy the Council to bring such a circumstance about. Then, as the full import of Yoda's words slammed into me, my grin faded suddenly. By the sound of it, Yoda didn't endorse the Council's decision, which was unusual, as the Council generally followed the wishes of its oldest member…That probably meant that Master Windu had advocated training Skywalker. That was interesting.

As I rose to depart, Yoda halted me by resting a hand on my arm. His massive eyes soft, Yoda gestured to my Padawan braid and offered, "Cut that for you I will, if want me to you do."

I bit my lip. To be honest, I had forgotten that the Padawan braid was ritually severed by the Padawan's Master once the Padawan had been made a Jedi. Obviously, though, Qui-Gon wouldn't be able to fill his role in that ceremony. It was touching that Yoda would make such an offer, but it didn't feel right for him to cut it. After all, if he did, he would be stepping into Qui-Gon's role, and nobody, not even Yoda, could replace Qui-Gon.

"No, thank you, Master Yoda," I replied at last. "I will do it myself."

I had just enough time to return to the bedroom Queen Amidala had insisted upon providing me with, chop off my braid with my lightsaber, and slip on a black cloak of morning over my tunic before I set off across the palace grounds to attend Qui-Gon's memorial service.

I was among the first to arrive, which made sense since it was the funeral of my Master, after all. Within a couple of minutes, Chancellor Palpatine, Sio Bibble, Boss Nass, Jar jar Binks, the Queen and her handmaidens arrived. As she entered with the other handmaidens, Eritae caught my eye and mouthed, "I'm sorry." Not long after that, Skywalker and the Council joined the assembly, although they came from different directions. Then, the grim Captain Panaka arrived with his security force in tow.

Finally, everyone was present, and the funeral pyre was lit. Stunned, I watched as the fires gained momentum, and the flames slowly began to envelop and consume my Master. It was odd since beforehand I had envisioned that I would cry at the funeral, but I discovered that I was able to maintain my composure. I had indeed cried all my tears out on the floor after Qui-Gon had been slain. After all, grief would not resurrect the dead, and love was meaningless if the memory of a love one couldn't bring the dead back to life. I had the memory of Qui-Gon and that was enough for me. Besides, it wasn't as if Qui-Gon was actually being devoured by the flames since his sprit, which was all that mattered, had already gone on to become one with the Force. Now nothing, even a blazing fire, could injure him anymore.

Glancing over at Skywalker, I saw that the lad didn't share my perspective if the way in which he was sniffling and wiping his eyes and his nose with the cuff of his sleeves was any indication. I hadn't been planning on speaking with Skywalker― no, Anakin, because if he was going to be my Padawan, I may as well get accustomed to addressing the boy by his first name― about being my apprentice until after the memorial service had concluded. Yet, suddenly, it seemed to me like the appropriate time to broach the topic with him was now. After all, it was my obligation as his Master to console him, and now was as good a time as any to commence instructing him in the Jedi principle of non-attachment.

Feeling more than a little uncomfortable, I reached out a hand and rested it upon Anakin's slender shoulder. As the boy's tear-filled eyes shifted upward to focus on me and he registered who I was, he seemed surprised that I would attempt to comfort him. Clearly, he must have detected my animosity toward him earlier, or else it was simply that he, like most children, hadn't taken an immediate liking to me as he had with Qui-Gon. Well, Qui-Gon connected with people better than I did, but Anakin would have to make do with me.

"He is one with the Force, Anakin," I educated him quietly. "You must let him go."

There was nothing original about my remark as it was a basic tenet of the Jedi Order, but what seemed to others to be trite aphorisms recited by the pompous had always been a comfort to me, and I hoped that they would provide some solace to Anakin. After all, even as the words spilled out of my mouth, my grief lost some of its jagged edge. Apparently, as I instructed Anakin, I was teaching myself as well by reminding myself of the rules that I was supposed to adhere to, meaning that Anakin and I would be learning together. As he learned to be an apprentice and a Jedi, I would be learning how to be a Master.

Obediently, Anakin stopped sniffling and straightened himself, although his voice was still more than a little forlorn as he demanded, "What will happen to me now?"

"I am your Master now," I responded solemnly. Once the words had emerged from my mouth, I regretted them. Anakin was a former slave, and his connotations of the term "Master" were understandably light-years away from mine. To him, a master was someone who owned you, cared about you merely as a financial investment, and physically and verbally abused you. On the other hand, to me, the word "Master" was associated with an agreement that both parties had entered into willingly and a Master was someone who provided gentle guidance. The idea of Qui-Gon striking me was ludicrous, and he would never have shouted at me, either. Sure, he might have felt like doing so at times, but he never would have done it…

Well, Anakin didn't have to call me Master right away. While he got accustomed to the notion of addressing me as "Master," I could adapt to the idea of being called "Master." Just as I had reached this conclusion, I noticed that Anakin seemed to comprehend the Jedi definition of Master because a glimmer of hope suddenly entered into his gaze. His eyes appeared to ask "So I do get to be a Jedi, after all?"

Smiling slightly, I nodded and answered the unasked query gleaming in his eyes. "You will become a Jedi, Anakin, I promise."

As Anakin's shoulders relaxed again and his gaze centered upon Qui-Gon's pyre once more, I noted that I really had to stop making large vows like that, since it was a horrid habit to get into. Yet, my words had been a comfort to the boy who was my responsibility to teach now, and that counted for something surely. Besides, I had already sworn practically the same thing, so it didn't make that much of a difference. Except that now if I failed I would be doubly foresworn. Well, that was all the more incentive for me not to fail, then, since I valued my honor since it was one of the few things in the galaxy that was truly irreplaceable.

I was a Master now with a Padawan of my own, and one day my Padawan would become a Jedi, and somewhere I knew that Qui-Gon Jinn was smiling, and that was all that mattered. For that moment, everything in the galaxy felt right to me.


	16. Chapter 16

Author's Note: Well, it entered my mind, and it wouldn't leave until I wrote it, and what else was I supposed to do while my teacher in CPR tested everyone on caring for an unconscious choking child? Anyway, I hope you like it. Hmm, I think it sounded better in my head than it did on paper. Oh well, I suppose it could have turned out worse.

Epilogue: Shooting Stars

I was standing on a balcony, staring down at the city of Theed, which was again filled with the pleasant sounds of beings enjoying the nightlife of the theater and meals at fancy eateries. Even though I was delighted that Naboo was out of the clutch of the Trade Federation, my mood, which otherwise might have been festive, was dampened by the fact that my Master, who had sacrificed so much for these people, couldn't be here to witness our victory. He, of all organisms, deserved to be here, and yet he wasn't.

Unable to study sentients who were so joyful, I tilted my head upward to gaze up at the stars burning brightly in the cold heavens above. Somehow, the sight of the stars comforted me. Those blazing celestial bodies reminded me that nothing endured― not sorrow, not guilt, and not pain. Yes, almost every star I beheld would outlive me by centuries, but in all of eternity, a few centuries amounted to barely a minute, whereas my entire existence would probably only equal a second or two. In the scheme of things, I was nothing, but that thought was a solace, not a taunt, to me. It meant that there was some great, incomprehensible plan governing the course of this universe, and nothing someone as insignificant as me did could mess it up.

Looking up at the stars reminded me of the conversation I had with Qui-Gon on the outset of the mission in which we had discussed the nature of death and attachment, and standing on this terrace prompted me to remember the last time my Master and I had stood on a balcony together, staring out over a glorious sunset on Coruscant. Although that was by far not our best time together, I still found that I regarded it with more than a little nostalgia. Wonderful, any memory that held Qui-Gon in it was already well on its path to becoming sacred in my eyes. Well, at least that ensured that I would never forget them, and the lessons they contained. There was a price to be paid for wisdom, after all, and mine was the pleasure― and the agony― of revisiting a million moments in which my Master and I had interacted.

"Master?" Anakin's voice was soft and almost hesitant as he exited the sleeping quarters that we shared, since I had convinced Queen Amidala that Anakin and I would benefit from some bonding time together and Ambassador Jar Jar Binks would appreciate the larger room he received when he moved into Anakin's suite instead.

As Anakin crossed over to lean beside me on the balustrade, I recovered from the shock that still shot through me every time he addressed me in this fashion. It always required considerable effort not to blurt out, "Youngling, I think that you should see a medic immediately, because I am not your Master and you have clearly sustained a severe mental injury if you believe as much."

I mean, it was challenging enough to accept that my Master was dead and that I was really a full-fledged Jedi Knight without the added responsibility of a Padawan who relied upon me for guidance, a commodity that I was afraid that I wasn't very adept at providing. Force knows, I still thought of myself as an apprentice. After all, it was practically as if I had awoken one morning as Qui-Gon's Padawan and had become Anakin Skywalker's Master by that evening. How exactly this had transpired was still something of a mystery to me.

Then, after the surprise at being addressed as "Master" had worn off, there would be second of dull comprehension, of "Master, oh, that would be me― sort off."

Once I had recovered enough to speak, I inquired, "Do you have all of your belongings packed?"

It was an important question since we were leaving tomorrow morning, now that the peace between the Gungans and the Naboo had been cemented with a formal celebration this morning of the pact drawn up between the two civilizations. The Jedi Council had already departed this afternoon after the festival had concluded, and Anakin and I couldn't dawdle here much longer. The Naboo mission had been accomplished at last, and Anakin and I had to return to the Temple soon so that his training could begin in earnest.

"Yes, Master." Anakin nodded in assent as I had expected that he would. After all, he was a former slave, which meant that he probably had less possessions than I did, and that was quite a feat. In a more excited tone, he pressed, "Where are we going, anyway?"

"Home," I answered, forgetting for a second that, unlike most Jedi, Anakin did not regard the Temple as his home, at least not yet. To him, home was still the slave quarters on Tatooine.

"We're going to Tatooine?" The boy's enthusiastic tone deflated abruptly, and the excitement that I could discern glittering in his eyes in the light afforded by the glowsticks attached to the palace wall to illuminate the terrace dimmed considerably.

"No, we're not going back to Tatooine, Anakin," I educated him. "Actually, we're going to be returning to Coruscant tomorrow. We'll be staying at the Jedi Temple so that you can start your training."

"Oh." Some of the sparkle was resurrected in Anakin's gaze.

"The Temple is your home and the Jedi are your family now," I added quietly. He nodded dutifully, but I could tell that there was no feeling behind the emotion. Yet, I didn't know what else to say to explain to him that this was so. After all, home and family were things that were rooted in individual emotions, and nobody could dictate another's feelings. When Anakin had adapted to his life as a Jedi, he would come to perceive the Temple as his home and the Jedi Order as his family, but until then my telling him that it was so would be of minimal use.

An awkward silence would probably have lapsed between us then, as it had every time we had been alone together for extended periods of time after Qui-Gon's funeral, if Anakin hadn't exclaimed, pointing at a flickering trail of light that was searing its way against the velvet black sky, "Look, Master, a shooting star!"

"It's very beautiful," I murmured. This was true. There was something incredibly lovely about a dying star putting up one last valiant struggle before surrendering to the inevitable and winking out entirely. Perhaps it was the tragic glamour of a noble lost cause, or perhaps it was simply the fleeting glory of a shooting star, which could never be surpassed by the constant light of a healthy sun that had centuries more to live.

"An old space pilot told me that all stars are suns," remarked Anakin.

"He was right."

"And most of them are bigger than Tatooine's suns, even though they seem so much smaller, but that's only because they are light-years away," he continued. "He claimed that Tatooine's suns were relatively tiny ones, but I found that hard to believe."

"They are rather small, as is the sun Coruscant orbits," I replied. "Tatooine is all desert because it is so close to its suns, not because its suns are massive."

"Basically all the stars have planets orbiting them," rambled on Anakin, only half-listening to me in his excitement about chattering on about stars.

"And a majority of those worlds are inhabited, many of them by humans," I contributed.

"On Tatooine, we had a story about shooting stars," stated Anakin. "We told each other that dragons dwelt inside the suns, and that was how they were able to emit heat and light. When night came, it was because the dragon was resting and didn't feel like working."

"Suns are fueled by fusion reactions like starship engines are," I explained as gently as I could. Although I was reluctant to disabuse the child of his myths when he had already been forced to abandon just about everything pertaining to his old life, I couldn't allow him to remain ignorant, either, when it was my job to train him. "You know how that works since you're a pilot."

"But engines can burn out." Anakin's eyes expanded in incredulity. "Are you saying that stars can burn out, too?"

"Yes, after many centuries, they burn out once they lose the energy to perform the fusion reactions that make their existence possible," I affirmed. "Small and medium stars, like Tatooine's and Coruscant's suns, will be transformed into nebulae or shooting stars when they reach the end of their existence, just like the shooting star we just witnessed did. Large stars, however, become giant dead stars that are so frigid that they hover a quantam fraction of a degree above absolute zero, or become black holes that swallow up everything in their grasp."

"Stars can _die_?" Anakin stuttered, wearing a horrified expression. If I had told him that he was enslaved to Watto again, he couldn't have been more appalled.

"It's the way of the universe, which is just another way of saying that it is the will of the Force." I laid a hand upon his shoulder in an attempt to soothe the anxious lad. "Everything dies. In time, even the stars flicker out. That is the reason why Jedi form no attachments because all things pass, and to hold onto something― or someone― beyond its time is to set your selfish desires against the Force. That is a definite path to misery, Anakin, and the Jedi do not walk it." After all, it was foolish in the extreme to seek out misery when one of the certainties of this particular universe was that unhappiness would always find you, so you needn't waste valuable time tracking it down.

"So every shooting star is a dying one, Master?" demanded Anakin, his eyes wide. At my nod, he whispered, "Then, I don't think that they're so beautiful anymore. Death isn't pretty in the slightest. There's absolutely nothing pleasant about it."

Making a mental note to discuss the importance of avoiding absolutes with him, I responded, "Don't be so hasty in your judgments. Death is a crucial part of life, since without death there could be no birth. After all, if a population always increased through birth and that influx was never countered through a decease in death, the population would become too extensive, and there would not be enough resources to allow the organisms to survive. Then, they would all perish through deprivation. It is better this way. Besides, the fragments of dead stars become the materials from which new stars are constructed, just as the remains of dead animals are returned to the soil by decomposers, and that soil permits plants to grow, so that other animals can eat. Death has a very critical role in the circle of life, and you would do well to remember that."

However, Anakin appeared unconvinced by my contention, but there was no time to expound upon this notion since it was getting late in the evening now, and he would require all of his energy tomorrow. Jedi training was intense, and he had a considerable amount of lost time to make up for.

"Get to bed now," I ordered before he could place any more inquiries that might result in us having a question and answer session that lasted until dawn. "It's late, and you have a busy day ahead of you tomorrow."

Sighing, he spun on his heel and shuffled reluctantly toward the door that lead back into our sleeping quarters. As I watched him affect his somewhat despondent exit, I had a surge of inspiration and shouted at his retreating back, "By the way, you can fly the starship tomorrow, if you want."

The words had an instantaneous impact, for Anakin whirled about to face me, his cheeks aglow and a grin splitting his features. "You mean it?"

"Of course I do. Jedi don't lie." As I established as much, I waved a hand in dismissal, hoping that Anakin would bear in mind that he was piloting a ship, not a Pod in the Boonta Eve race. If he didn't, I would never let him fly again. "Now, go to bed."

"Yahoo!" Anakin whooped and dashed into our bedchamber, enlivened once again by the prospect of being pilot tomorrow.

As he departed, I felt my lips quirk upward slightly. Since flying was not on my list of one hundred favorite activities, I was more than happy to relinquish the task of navigating spacecraft to my new Padawan, especially because he had a skill that would benefit from the honing of it. With enough practice, he might even become one of the best pilots not only in the Order, but in the whole galaxy. After all, not many humans could have survived, nonetheless won a Podrace.

Gazing up at the stars, which I saw in a whole new light after my exchange with Anakin, I thought that Qui-Gon had provided me with more than a responsibility when he had handed the training of Anakin over to me― he had given me a gift. That is, something about Anakin's spontaneity and his flair for the dramatic reminded me of my Master, and, although that caused a pang of hurt to flash through my heart, it also raised my spirits somehow, because I knew that I needed someone around to soften my clenched-jaw insistence on complete correctness as Qui-Gon had done, and now I had Anakin to do that for me.

Yet, I had to be careful, I warned myself, because the fact that Anakin reminded me so much of my Master could create numerous complications. After all, since he was so like my late Master, I could very well end up turning a blind eye to flaws I should chide out of him. However, there was also the equal and opposite risk that I would scold out attributes that I shouldn't have just because they had aggravated me in Qui-Gon.

I would have to tread very carefully indeed, I noted, as I walked across the balcony and back into the sleeping quarters I shared with Anakin. When I entered, I discovered that I must have been reflecting for longer than I had imagined out on the terrace, for my Padawan was already crumpled upon his sleep couch in the dark room. Obviously, his dreams were more of a torment than a sweet release if his flailing legs and frantic muttering of, "No, Mom― I don't want to leave you" were any indicators.

Studying the fitful slumber of the boy, I wondered briefly what to do. Should I wake him up or let him sleep and work through his emotions that way? When Anakin emitted an anguished shriek, my indecision was terminated abruptly, and I hurried across the room.

"Anakin, wake up," I commanded, shaking his shoulder when I reached his sleep couch. Like me, he must have been a light sleeper, unlike Qui-Gon, who could snooze through my rearranging half the furniture in our quarters if I didn't create a disturbance in the Force while doing so, for he jolted upright instantly.

"What's going on?" Anakin demanded as he sat up, looking around our quarters as though he was certain that we had been attacked by an enemy in the middle of the night.

"You had a nightmare," I informed him.

"It was about my mother." His moist blue eyes locked on mine, Anakin's fingers began fiddling with his sheets. "I miss her so much." Now his chin quivered as the tears in his eyes trickled down his cheeks. "And I miss Qui-Gon, too. I can't let them go even if that's what Jedi are supposed to do, Master."

"Yes, you can," I told him firmly. "By saying 'can't' you limit yourself, and Jedi don't do that."

"Maybe I can, then, but I don't know how," Anakin maintained stubbornly.

"Then I shall teach you," I educated him, stifling the urge to grin. Regaining my seriousness, I admitted, "I miss Qui-Gon too, because he was basically my father as well as my teacher."

"He was the closest thing I had to a father, too," whispered Anakin. "He answered all my questions and didn't yell at me or beat me like Watto did."

As I realized how much this boy must have lacked a male role model to admire and strive to emulate if he had clung like a drowning being would to any piece of timber no matter how frail to the first man who had treated him with any semblance of kindness, I swallowed and went on, "We both loved him, but the point is that we must go on living. After all, he wouldn't wish for us to wallow in grief. Instead, he would want us to continue on without him. It will be difficult at first, but once you get started, it will become gradually easier."

I paused long enough to shoot him a significant glance before resuming, "Your mother would want you to work to achieve your dreams as well. Since she really loved you, she wouldn't wish to be the one who held you back from reaching your full potential."

Although he eyed me dubiously, as though he doubted that I truly understood what he was enduring, Anakin didn't argue. Instead, he just flopped back onto his sleep couch. Watching him curl up in a fetal position, it hit me that he really must be chilled on this watery world when he was accustomed to life in a sandy and sunny desert, and I grabbed a blanket off my own sleep couch and threw it over him. Sheets never benefited me much anyway, since I always ended up rolling out of them, so they would doubtlessly be better employed warming a shivering Anakin.

"Good night, my young Padawan," I said softly as I rose from his sleep couch. It was the first time that I had ever referred to Anakin as my Padawan, but the term emerged from my lips naturally. Remembering that I had been addressed in the exact same fashion by Qui-Gon even during the Naboo mission, I amended, "My very young Padawan."

That sounded better since it was more precise, I thought, but Anakin disagreed.

"I'm nine," he scowled.

"Which makes you very young," I clinched, as I crossed over to my sleep couch and pulled my nightclothes out from under my pillow. Anakin snorted, but made no further protest, and soon our sleeping quarters was filled with the sound of his slow, deep breathing.


End file.
